


A Game Well Played

by Emachinescat



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: AU Episode Tag, Angst, Bromance, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Suspense, Whump, s3e07 The Castle of Fyrien
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-13
Updated: 2011-07-21
Packaged: 2018-01-13 07:31:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 35,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1217725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emachinescat/pseuds/Emachinescat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU to 3x7. A terrified Gwen stumbles into Camelot after being missing for a day, tears streaming down her face, bearing grim news that sends Arthur on a quest through the enemy's territory to save his stolen manservant, no matter the cost. And the cost will be great.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Inside the Black

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own "Merlin."
> 
> I wrote this episode AU after watching 3x7, The Castle of Fyrien, under this premise: What if Merlin had been with Gwen the night she got captured? What if they both became pawns to get at Arthur? And what would happen if Arthur went on this quest with Gwen and Morgana… without Merlin to watch his back? And so this story was born. :)
> 
> Enjoy. :)

"Gwen!"

Gwen gasped and covered her heart with her hand in surprise as a familiar chipper voice chirped beside her. She turned to glare good-naturedly at her fellow servant, Merlin, who had seemingly melted out of the shadows as she walked across the courtyard in the darkening dusk toward her home after a long day of work. "Merlin," she sighed in fond exasperation, "I'll never understand how someone so… clumsy… can be so sneaky!"

Even in the dim light of the moon, Gwen could see her friend's quirky grin as he moved to walk in step with her. "I told you the day we met," he said, leaning closer as if he were about to reveal a juicy secret. "I'm in disguise."

Gwen chuckled as she continued to walk in the direction of her small home, Merlin right beside her. "Ah," she said teasingly, "and clumsiness is just part of your façade?"

Merlin started to agree before nearly falling flat on his face courtesy of a rather sizeable crack on the ground. They were out of the courtyard and in the lower town now; the road was less reliable and not as well-cared for. She tried and failed to hold back an amused giggle and he laughed. "Well, no… the clumsiness just kind of happens."

Gwen shook her head, her dark curls tickling her forehead as she did so. "I thought so." She paused. "Why are you walking me home, Merlin?"

Merlin glanced at her. "Are you afraid Arthur will get jealous?"

Gwen blushed furiously, thankful for the night to cover up her flushed cheeks. "Of course not."

"I saw you leaving and I figured I'd make sure you got home safely," Merlin answered as they approached her house.

She smiled at her friend, grateful to have someone as sweet as Merlin looking out for her. As much as she hated being fawned over like she was a child by the males in her life, it warmed her life to know they cared. Suddenly struck by a thought, she paused in the process of opening her door to glance over her shoulder at her dark-haired companion. "Did Arthur put you up to this?" she asked, eyebrows raised.

Merlin shook his head. "No – honest, Gwen, although I have a feeling he wouldn't mind me keeping an eye on you."

Gwen rolled her eyes. "I think he worries too much – you both do."

Merlin shrugged. "Well, you  _are_  the future queen of Camelot, are you not?"

Gwen blushed so brightly that she was sure Merlin could see it even with the mask of evening blanketing her face. "Merlin!" she scolded in a whisper, aghast at her friend's bluntness, even if he  _had_  been teasing her. "Of course not!" She couldn't hide the tendril of hope in her voice as she objected.  _Maybe, someday, when he is king…_

"Gwen, Arthur loves you," Merlin smiled warmly. "Don't worry – when he's king, things will change." There was a pause and when Merlin spoke again, his voice was more serious and determined than she had ever heard. "He'll make a great king."

Gwen murmured her agreement and a friendly silence followed, only to be broken moments later by Merlin shivering and commenting, "It's getting chilly out here, what are you doing standing outside?"

Gwen grinned. "Sorry." Pushing open the door, she asked, "Would you like to come in and warm up?" Merlin frowned and his eyes darted back and forth, almost as if he were looking for something. He didn't seem to have heard her and the look on his face made Gwen think that something was bothering him. "Merlin?" she tried again.

He snapped out of whatever daze he was in and nodded, moving to follow her into the house. "Just for a moment," he said.

Gwen had expected a silly remark about how Arthur would get the wrong idea or how he didn't want to make the "royal prat" jealous, but there was nothing. He seemed nervous, tense. Gwen frowned and began to walk into the house, Merlin's hand on her shoulder.

It hit her then, a wave of paranoia, the feeling of being watched – and it wasn't Merlin whose eyes were on her, either. She heard a soft footstep from somewhere within her house. Merlin's hand was still on her shoulder so it wasn't him.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when Merlin's voice tickled her ear, his breath warm on her neck. "Gwen – get out of here. Run!"

She knew he wouldn't accept any arguments and she spun around, dashing for the door, but she didn't make it. A huge, burly man stepped out of the shadows near the door and blocked her way. He reached for her and she tried to dodge his muscled arms but before she could so much as scream, a sickeningly sweet smelling cloth was over her mouth and nose. She inhaled instinctively and her head swam. She was unconscious in seconds.

Her last semi-coherent thought was,  _What happened to Merlin?_

* * *

Merlin had had a feeling that something wasn't right all day.

He hadn't been able to place it exactly; he just knew that something was off. It was the same kind of feeling that he tended to get before something bad happened. He didn't know if it was his magic or merely his instincts, but either way, this feeling had rarely been wrong before.

During breakfast as he and Gwen served Arthur, Morgana, and the king, Merlin had kept a close eye on the king's ward, noticing how her blue-grey eyes flickered between Arthur and Gwen. The dark glances she kept sending Gwen's way when she thought no one was looking unnerved Merlin to the core. He knew no one else noticed – because they  _never_  did – and he resolved to keep a close eye on Gwen because the look on Morgana's face said that she was planning something.

He had waited for Gwen behind one of the statues in the courtyard, determined to walk her home to make sure she got there safely. Whatever Morgana was planning – if she was indeed planning anything – was looking as if it involved Gwen and Merlin was going to protect his friend no matter what.

When they arrived at her home and he and Gwen walked into her house, the feeling that something was wrong intensified severely. Merlin's heart had thudded wildly behind his rib cage, his stomach twisting itself into knots. He could sense eyes boring into him and he knew someone was there, lurking in the shadows of Gwen's house, waiting for her.

He kept his lanky hand on her tensed shoulder and whispered, "Gwen. Get out of here." When she hadn't moved – from fright or hesitation to leave him he didn't know – he hissed firmly, "Run!"

And she had. But she hadn't made it. Before either of them could comprehend what had happened, Gwen was slumped unconscious in the man's arms. Merlin's eyes flashed gold as he sent her attacker flying across the room and into a wall. Gwen herself floated gently to the floor, unhurt other than whatever the intruder had done to her, thanks to Merlin's magic.

Breathing a sigh of relief that the man was gone, Merlin started for his friend, a prickle of unease still nagging at his gut. He pushed it aside, sure it was just nerves from what had happened, and moved to kneel beside his unconscious friend.

That was when a thick arm wrapped around his neck and a cloth drenched in something sweet-smelling was pressed against his face. He took a deep breath, preparing to fill himself up with magic, and instead found his head pounding and fuzzy, white dots flashing in front of his eyes. He heard a surprised chuckled from very, very far away and barely understood it when the man whose arms he was sinking deeper into said excitedly, "Sorcerer!"

And then the white dots turned crimson and then gray, his remaining vision blurring together as he fell into the black abyss of unconsciousness.

He knew no more.


	2. Leverage

He was being jerked up and down, his head lolling with every movement, his body and head aching with every jarring leap his limp body made. A loud clopping sound filled his hearing and he winced, or tried to, but the facial movement was restricted by something tied tightly over his mouth. He panicked, everything rushing back to him in an instant.

He had walked Gwen home… the men… they had attacked her and Merlin had saved her… he had run to her side… but there had been  _two_  men, not just one. He had been attacked from behind and then…

Well, he decided above the wave of nausea and pounding of his skull, then must have caught up with now. He couldn't remember anything after the cloth had been placed over his mouth and nose. Only his vision swimming and a great wave of lightheadedness sweeping over him, and then darkness.

He opened his eyes but had to close them almost instantly. The world was moving too fast, making him even more nauseous. Fear spiked through him as his situation became clear. He had been taken by the intruders in Gwen's home and they had obviously been traveling for quite some time because the first light of dawn was upon them. He was, at the moment, slung over the neck of a horse in front of one of his captors, his head dangling on one side, his rump in the air, and his feet hanging over the other. He was gagged by something and as he tried to move his arms he realized that they were tied tightly behind his back. He hadn't been able to tell if they had taken Gwen, too, but considering that they had been waiting for her in her home, they probably had. The idea made Merlin sick to his stomach.

The man behind him had apparently realized from his movements that he had woken up. Even as Merlin let the magic build up inside him – as if a  _gag_  could keep him from doing spells – the gravelly voice of the man behind him hissed, "Not so fast, sorcerer," as if already anticipating what Merlin was planning on doing. He felt the horse slow to a stop and then a hand was in his hair, pulling him upwards. Momentarily forgetting about his magic, Merlin struggled as his head was yanked up by his hair. Before he knew what was happening, another sodden cloth had been shoved into his face and he fell into unconsciousness again.

* * *

The next time he woke up, it was to a flask of cold water being poured onto his face. He coughed and sputtered, his head spinning crazily as he tried to gain his bearings. Thankfully, he was no longer on a horse but he was still tied. He was lying on his back in the grass and the bright afternoon sun was blazing down upon him. His arms were fastened securely behind his back with layer upon layer of rope and he realized that he was gagged with his own neckerchief. One of the men that had taken him was looming over him, tossing the empty flask aside and glowering at his prisoner.

He was a huge man, and quite ugly, too. His hair was cropped close to his abnormally large scalp, his eyes dark blue and beady, and nose longer than any Merlin had ever seen. His mouth was more or less a lopsided gash under his pointy nose and when he bared his teeth, Merlin saw that he was missing a lot of teeth, and those that still remained were yellow and rotten. He didn't see the other man but that didn't mean he wasn't around here somewhere – he had learned that the hard way last night when one of them had snuck up on him as he was trying to help Gwen.

His captor grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him to his feet. Merlin stood, still slightly dazed, and swayed on his feet. He could see a dark castle in the near distance, rising ominously above the trees. It was fairly obvious that it was their destination, and somehow the sight of the palace didn't make him feel any better. He knew where they were – he had never been here, but growing up in Ealdor, in Cenred's land, he had heard of it – and none of the things he had heard about this place were good. In fact, they were downright terrifying. They were approaching Cenred's castle. The very thought made his spine tingle with fear.

He raised his eyebrows questioningly at the man in front of him, silently inquiring what it was he wanted although he was fairly sure he knew. Morgause had worked with Cenred before. She was probably with him again, planning on using the prisoners to get at Arthur and cause his death. Merlin was  _not_  going to let that happen. They'd have to kill him before he let them so much as touch Arthur.

For the first time since he had been so rudely woken up, the man spoke in the same deep, guttural voice Merlin had heard earlier on the horse as he answered his prisoner's unspoken question. "You are not going to cause _any_  trouble," the man sneered and Merlin's eyebrows shot up higher. "You are going to do  _what_  we say _when_ we say it, and you are  _not_  going to try doing  _any_  magic, sorcerer." Merlin fought the urge to roll his eyes. As if they could stop him.

As it turned out, they could. All it took was a bit of leverage.

The second man strode into view, equally as ugly but more wiry than his companion although his lean arms were muscled. One of those arms was snaked around the waist of a terrified young woman, the other hand holding a knife to her vulnerable throat. "Gwen!" Merlin yelled – or at least tried to – but with the gag blocking his mouth it sounded more like, " _Gerrah!_ "

Gwen's dark eyes were wide with fear, her face pale and hair disheveled. Her breathing came in small, frantic gasps. Her eyes locked onto his. She wasn't gagged and her lips moved without sound for a few moments before she finally gasped out, "Merlin!"

"Aw, isn't that sweet?" the second man mocked, his voice high and whiny.

"If you don't want her to die, you  _will_  not do anything rash – do you understand me?"

Merlin glared furiously at their captors but glanced at Gwen and nodded jerkily. He would play along – for Gwen.


	3. Surprise Guest

King Cenred was  _not_  a patient man.

He sat on his throne in the dimly lit, eerie great hall and waited for the bandits he had sent out to return with the girl. It didn't help that his nerves were already on edge, which more than likely had to do with the weight of invisible eyes gearing down on him as he waited.

 _Her_  eyes.

She was somewhere above him, watching him from behind a hidden grate on the third floor, watching and waiting much more patiently than he could ever dream to do himself. Breathtakingly beautiful, intelligent, and _powerful_. It was this magic she possessed, this great power, that unnerved him; sent tingles of fear down his spine as he thought about her when he was alone and made doubts come alive unbidden in the night when he was by himself. But then the next day she would grace him with her glorious, tempting presence and the doubts would flee his mind in an instant.

 _Morgause_. He would do anything for her. He knew it; she knew it. It was just the way things were. This was why he was currently waiting for his men to return with this  _maid_  that Morgause wanted – a serving girl that Prince Arthur was apparently madly in love with. He had his doubts; from everything he had heard about Camelot's prince, even though he had never actually interacted directly with the man, didn't fit with him being in love with a commoner. Morgause was positive – her traitor, the Lady Morgana, whom Cenred personally didn't care for nor she for him, had assured her that this was the case.

The fact of the matter was that Morgause had asked for his help in first taking the man currently chained up in the dungeon, apparently this servant's brother, and then – the part of the plan that was being carried out right now – the maidservant herself. And what Morgause asked, he did. It was as simple as that.

He hissed in annoyance and shifted on the throne, his leather pants squeaking as his rump slid over on the seat. He tapped his leather-gloved fingers on the arm of the seat and waited.

My, how he hated waiting.

A voice rang in his head, causing him to jump.  _Patience, Cenred._ He scowled, trying to retain his dignity and pretend like he hadn't been affected by Morgause's disembodied voice at all. He  _hated_  it when she did that!

And then there was a crash as the doors to the throne room were flung open and two – not one – bound prisoners were dragged into the room by the two men (he hadn't even bothered to learn their names; he would probably just end up killing them eventually, anyway, despite the fact that they were technically his men) and flung brutally to the floor in front of his feet. Cenred's eyes narrowed as he took in the two captives – one was a girl with dark skin, roughly the same color of the man's in the dungeon, and the other a skinny boy with dark hair and blue eyes. The boy was gagged and tied with his hands tightly behind his back and he looked disoriented. The girl was clearly terrified and she kept shooting anxious glances at her companion. Her hands were tied in front of her and she wasn't gagged. Cenred almost smirked as he realized that her fear probably had paralyzed her vocal chords anyway.

He turned his attention away from the prisoners for the immediate time and glared at the kidnappers. "Who," he said, his voice tight with irritation, "is  _that?_ " He waved a hand in Merlin's direction.

"Uh…" said one of the guards, apparently having forgotten for the time being what his miserable excuse was. Cenred looked at the boy again, this time really looking at him. He was skinny and dressed in servant's clothes. His hair was wild from hanging from a horse all night and his eyes, while angry and a bit uncertain, held no fear. Surprised, Cenred took a step closer to the boy, causing both him and his lovely companion to tense involuntarily.

Slowly circling the extra prisoner like a vulture closing in on its prey, Cenred purred dangerously, "I  _thought_ my orders were  _specifically_  to take the girl, and only the girl." The maid's eyes widened and her lips parted but she didn't speak. "If you encountered anyone else, they were to be dealt with immediately.  _Not_  taken prisoner." He smirked, grabbing a handful of short raven hair in one of his gloved hands and forcing the boy to look up at him. "Unless  _this_  is the servant our noble prince has been pining over."

The boy's eyes widened in horror and disgust and he tried to wrench his head from Cenred's grasp. The king snarled, bringing his fist back and smashing it into the captive's face, splitting his lip and sending him flying back into the restraining arms of one of his men. The dark-haired maid's eyes grew even bigger and she finally cried out, "Merlin!"

"Ah, so that's your name is it?" King Cenred asked the unexpected 'guest,' taking the boy's lean face in one of his strong hands. The young man squirmed in the man's grip behind him, trying to say something behind the gag. For a moment something flashed in his eyes that made Cenred want to back up a step as a wave of terror coursed through his body. Then the feeling was gone and his eyes flickered to the bandit's.

"Kill him."


	4. Ultimatum

Merlin felt his heart rate spike at Cenred's words. He had decided the moment that he set eyes on the king that he had heard so much about that he didn't like him one bit. For one thing, he was clad completely in leather. Did he think it made him more intimidating? Or did he simply thing it was impressive that his clothing squeaked every time he took a step. He was also  _far_  too arrogant and obviously enjoyed being the "bad guy." Despite his outward display of bravado, however, Merlin could tell that the man was a coward. He had almost smiled in satisfaction when the flash of raw power in Merlin's eyes had been shown to him and he'd nearly backed away.

Now, however, Cenred had ordered the bandits to kill him and that just wouldn't do. Even as Gwen cried, "NO!" and the bandit tightened his grip on the warlock, Merlin was filling himself up with magic. Gwen was relatively unguarded at the moment – with luck, he would be able to take the bandits and the king by surprise long enough to take Gwen and get out of there.

Before he could act, though, the bandit keeping a half-hearted eye on Gwen intervened. "You may not want to do that, sir," he said, bowing clumsily.

Cenred looking at him down his nose like he was something so filthy that it didn't even deserve acknowledging.  _If this is how he treats all his subjects_ , Merlin decided,  _it's no wonder no one, not even his own 'knights,' are loyal to him_. "No," the king hissed dangerously. "I really think I do."

"But he's a sorcerer," the man protested. Gwen's eyes went wide and snapped onto Merlin while the king snorted in laughter. For the time being, Merlin didn't look at Gwen, afraid of what he would see in her gaze – accusation, hatred, betrayal, anger, disappointment… or even worse – fear. He didn't want her to be afraid of him. Instead, he focused his attention onto the cowardly snake of a king that was walking purposefully toward him, leather boots barely making a sound on the stone floor of the castle.

Merlin's stomach tightened as the king stood not an inch from him. He was so close that the man's greasy shoulder-length hair tickled his face. Merlin struggled to stand to his full height, eyes blazing, as the king reached out with a gloved hand and grasped Merlin's chin tightly. Merlin didn't dare move as his head was moved from one side to the other. Cenred smiled a dangerous, terrible grin and suddenly –  _when did that get here?_  – he produced a long knife and put the flat of the blade against Merlin's face.

The only things that Merlin could hear were his own heartbeat and the sounds of struggling somewhere beside him. "Merlin!" Gwen called before she was muffled, either by a gag or someone's hand over her mouth. Merlin sucked down his pride and remained motionless. He had to go through this – for Gwen. Unless their lives were in immediate danger, he couldn't risk her getting hurt. She was obviously captive of the other bandit again and he couldn't take the chance that she'd die if he used magic.

Cenred smirked. "I don't believe that  _you_  are a sorcerer," he hissed, flicking the knife so that the edge of the blade was caressing one of Merlin's cheekbones. Merlin didn't respond – not that he could with a gag in his mouth. The slightest twitch of his face could cause the point of the knife to slice into his flesh. "And I," the king went on, "guess I shall just have to kill you myself."

Merlin tried to jerk his head away, seconds from doing trying to escape, Cenred growled, yanking his head back by the hair so far that his neck was completely bared, the neckerchief currently being used as a gag instead of in its regular place. The knife was about to go slicing across Merlin's throat and he let the magic fill him up. At the last second, right before Merlin was going to send the king flying back with a great wave of energy in the hopes that he'd be able to get to Gwen in time before the men killed her, Cenred stopped.

His eyes grew wide and darted around, the hair near the nape of Merlin's neck still tight in his hand. Merlin's neck ached from its arched position and he eyed the glinting knife warily, aware that it was still inches from his exposed throat. Cenred turned back to him then, grumbling something about "fickle women," whatever that meant, and drew back the knife.

"Well," he said slowly, releasing Merlin's hair. "You're lucky,  _Merlin_  the 'sorcerer'. It seems my lady has deemed you worthy of her time."

Merlin's brow furrowed. His lady? Did that mean…?

Cenred smiled evilly. "Not only that, but she seems to have a  _personal_  interest in you, my unlucky friend. She believes you will be  _very_  useful to her. And to me, too, since Guinevere here," he glanced at Gwen, who Merlin couldn't see because that stupid leather-clad torso was in his way, "is going to go back to Camelot and inform her love that if he wants to see his manservant again – he'll have to come here and rescue him."

Merlin instantly realized that it was a trap. A trap for Arthur. He tensed and his eyes flashed gold. Cenred went flying back across the room, crashing into his throne. There was a gasp from Gwen and then Cenred stood up, eyes so wide it would have been comical had the situation not been so dire. Merlin magicked the gag off his mouth, and the bonds off of himself and Gwen. The men were advancing on him, all but ignoring Gwen. "Gwen – RUN!" Merlin shouted, knowing he would be able to take them on much better than if she were in danger of getting hurt.

For the first time since she had discovered the truth, Merlin locked eyes with his friend. She was scared – scared for him? "But," she argued as the men made no move to subdue her.

"No, GO!" Merlin cried. "And DON'T bring Arthur here; it's a trap!"

Gwen nodded once, tears filling her eyes, and ran. The men let her, laughing. "Yes, run to your precious Arthur, Guinevere," Cenred chuckled darkly. "You'll be back… And if not... we've always got..." He trailed off, leaving Merlin confused, but he didn't take time to try and understand what "else" Cenred had.

Merlin started to send one of the bandits flying but before he could, something heavy crashed down onto the back of his head. He staggered, his eyesight going blurry. The object – the hilt of a sword? – hit him again, this time right behind his left ear, even harder. Merlin toppled, trying to stay in control of his magic, of his grip on consciousness, but he was fading. One last hit, this time a fist to the side of his head, made white spots dance in front of his eyes. Pain filled every part of his being.

The last thing he was aware of was being lifted, carried somewhere.

Nothing.


	5. Awakening

Arthur burst into Gaius's chambers, half dressed and fuming. "Where is he?" the prince demanded, blue eyes glinting dangerously. He strode forward, looking beneath Gaius's work table, nearly toppling some bubbling potions. He started stomping toward Merlin's room when the court physician stopped him, frowning a bit.

"Sire… Merlin isn't here."

"Oh," Arthur growled, his mind flickering back to the last time Merlin hadn't shown up for work, only to turn up a day or so later with some sort of excuse about "almost dying." "Let me guess – you thought he was with me, did you?"

Gaius sighed patiently. "I haven't seen Merlin since last night," he said, two furry gray eyebrows crawling together. "I thought he might have come in after I was asleep last night, but his room was empty and bed not slept in when I went to wake him this morning."

Arthur rolled his eyes, trying his best to ignore the twinge of worry that was picking at his gut. "Alright," he grumbled, "I'll get another servant to get me ready and then I'll go find that idiot and make sure to give him so many chores that he won't have  _time_  to not come to work anymore." Both Gaius and Arthur pointedly ignored the fact that the threat made absolutely no sense at all. "Did he say where he was going last night?"

Gaius's mouth curved down slightly. "He told me he was going to walk Guinevere home after work, that he wanted to make sure she got home safe."

Arthur's head snapped up. "Guinevere?"

Gaius, suddenly afraid that Arthur might get the wrong idea, quickly added, "Sire, you don't honestly think –"

Arthur looked fiercely angry – more like his father in that moment than he ever had – and then his shoulders slumped. He huffed, running a hand through his already disheveled blonde hair. "No, of course not. Merlin's nothing if not loyal – and so is Guinevere." He closed his eyes briefly, the worry doubling now that both Merlin _and_  Gwen were in the picture. If something had happened to either of them…

"I'll find him, Gaius," Arthur promised, eyes gleaming with determination. "I'll find the idiot – he probably got sidetracked by the tavern on his way home."

"I hope so, sire."

Arthur nodded at Gaius distractedly, while the older man bowed his head. As Arthur left, Gaius began to putter around, preparing remedies – he needed something to do to keep his mind off of the gnawing concern chilling his old bones. Surely Merlin was fine, he told himself sternly, after all, he  _was_  an extremely powerful – if not a bit untrained – sorcerer. He could take care of himself.

But if Gwen _was_ somehow in the picture, things might not be as simple as they seemed…

He shook off the thought, trying to convince himself that he was overreacting, overthinking. Merlin had disappeared suddenly and for short periods of time before with no explanation every so often – although the last time he had done so, he had returned with a painful Serket sting in his back. Somehow the recollection didn't make Gaius feel any better and he forced his mind onto other things.

Merlin was  _fine_.

The unexplainable sense of foreboding in his creaky old joints and the nervous tickle in his stomach said otherwise.

* * *

The first thing he was aware of was pain. It was everywhere; he was drowning in it. At first everything was so fuzzy, his mind and senses so muddled, that he couldn't pinpoint an exact location where the it came from. As his coherency began to return, bit by little bit, Merlin's aches and pains became more centralized in their origin and he groaned, the pain in his head intensifying when he tried to move. He kept his eyes shut, not willing to subject himself to whatever situation he had gotten himself into this time quite yet. He felt something wet trickle down his neck and wondered if Arthur had gotten angry and dumped water on him – it wouldn't be the first time! But that wouldn't explain the pain…

Bracing himself as best he could, Merlin forced his eyes to open, the fierce ache in his head and neck sharpening dramatically, causing him to gasp, before settling back into a (barely) tolerable level. His eyes slowly moved around even as the world spun sickeningly around him, causing his stomach to curl in nausea. He squeezed his eyes shut again, overwhelmed by the sick feeling. All he had been able to see when he had opened his eyes was a blur of black and grays – his surroundings hadn't stopped lurching about long enough for him to get a grip on reality – so he was no closer to figuring out what was going on. He tried to shift, panicking when something cold and sharp cut his wrists.

"Hey, you okay?"

His stomach jolted in shock at hearing the unfamiliar voice, but the surprise was enough to make his eyes snap open once again. Blinking rapidly, Merlin finally managed to clear his vision enough so that he could at least semi-see what was around him. The pain was still pounding like an over-zealous drum but he did his best to ignore it as he focused on the unfamiliar but not unkind face looking at him from across the small cell.

Ah. A  _cell_. That was something. He was in a cell, which meant he was in a dungeon. It didn't look like any cell in Camelot that he had ever seen, though – it was basically a gray closet, three walls stone, one wall metal – probably the door, since there was a small window near the top, about at eye-level, with bars in it. Looking up, pain stabbing through his head at even the most miniscule movement, Merlin discovered that his wrists were chained in shackles that were in turn attached to the back wall of the cell. The dark-skinned man, who Merlin could barely make out in the flickering light of a torch somewhere outside of the little window, was chained similarly.

"Who are you?" Merlin asked, realizing afterward that he wasn't gagged. "What happened?"

The man, who looked strangely familiar although Merlin couldn't place him, smiled sympathetically. "My name is Elyan. I'm not sure what happened to you, although I've been here for three days; two of Cenred's guards tossed you in here a few hours ago and you've been unconscious since."

Merlin gasped sharply as everything came rushing back to him, causing his heart to palpitate furiously behind his ribs, his breath hitching in his throat. "Gwen," he breathed, more to himself. "Gwen, what happened to her?"

He expected the stranger to be confused at the mention of the other servant's name but instead the man lurched forward, hindered by his chains, his eyes wide and wild. "Gwen? Guinevere? She was here? Did they hurt her? How do  _you_  know her?" Distrust emanated from Elyan's voice, along with a fierce wave of protectiveness.

Surprised, Merlin jerked his head to face the man, crying out from pain as he did so. He was no physician but he knew a serious head wound when he saw it – or in this case, felt it. The pain, combined with the nausea and dizziness, suggested that he probably had a concussion. Ignoring the disturbing prospect and working his way slowly through the pain, Merlin said, "She's my friend; I was walking her home, wanting to make sure she got home safely, and there were two goons waiting for her." His voice was thick as he continued. "I managed to knock one out but the other one snuck up behind me… but I managed to, uh,  _distract_  Cenred and his men long enough to give her a chance to run…"

Elyan sighed in relief. "Maybe she made it then. Thank you for protecting my sister."

Oh, so  _that's_  why he looked so familiar – he was Gwen's brother. Merlin began to try and put the pieces together, trying to make sense of everything – the men waiting to kidnap Gwen, her brother already captive, Cenred's remark about a change of plans…

His mind was still fuzzy and although he knew the answer was  _right_  in front of him, he couldn't quite grasp it, not through the pain. He wanted to pass out again, escape from the agony.

Elyan's voice brought him back to the surface. "What's your name?"

"Merlin." Both men were startled at the silky feminine voice – all too familiar for Merlin's liking – answering Elyan's question for Merlin. The cell door was opened and a beautiful blonde woman wearing a form fitting, long red dress almost glided into the room, brown eyes fixed almost hungrily on the chained Merlin before her. She was flanked by two men, although they weren't the same ones that had abducted them. "His name is Merlin, and it turns out that he has a  _juicy_  secret, but now that I am in the loop, everything has come into even clearer focus." Merlin glared and Morgause smirked, nodding at the men who had accompanied her. "Take him."

Merlin was barely aware of the shackles being unlocked because the pain of being hauled to his feet and forced to walk was overwhelming his head. He distantly heard Elyan demanding to know where they were taking him, but he didn't hear Morgause's answer. He thought he was going to throw up, and, bloody  _hell_ , his head  _hurt_.

He didn't know how long they walked for but eventually they stopped, the men still holding Merlin upright and Morgause's eyes glimmering wickedly. "Why don't we spend some time getting to know each other better while we wait for Arthur to arrive, Merlin?" the witch taunted.

Merlin didn't answer; he was too busy trying to make the world stand still and the black at the corners of his vision dissipate. Neither attempt was working.

"Arthur's not coming," Merlin said, more wishful thinking than anything. If his head would just stop hurting so damn much, he might be able to think of and perform a spell that could save himself and Elyan, but as it was, he could barely string two words together to form a complete sentence.

_Yep, definitely a concussion…_

Morgause didn't look convinced as the guards led Merlin to a sturdy wooden chair in the middle of the empty, gray room they had migrated to. Instead, she just smiled knowingly, as if acutely aware of just how far Arthur would go for his servant – his  _friend_  – and as the men began tying Merlin's chafed wrists to the arms of the chair, the witch said, "We'll see." She took a few steps forward, her red dress brushing the floor as she moved, her gaze fixed predatorily on her captive.

"We shall see."


	6. Revenge

Merlin kept his eyes on Morgause even as he gave an experimental tug at the ropes binding his wrists to the chair he had been forced into. He could snap the ropes with a flash of his eyes, not even having to utter a single spell, but getting loose of his bonds wasn't what concerned him. It was overpowering and escaping from the blonde witch smirking triumphantly down at him.

Merlin was powerful – more powerful than Morgause, although much of his magic was still a bit of a mystery to him – but he also wasn't stupid. He was injured, more than likely concussed, and weak at the moment. He had been captured by the witch before and knew how strong she was. He hadn't been able to break the spell on her chains when she had bound him in the Darkling Woods with only the poisonous Serkets as company.

Yes, he had learned more about his magic since then and  _was_  extremely powerful, but now didn't seem to be the best time to test his luck… especially when Gwen's brother was in the hands of Morgause and Cenred  _and_ he couldn't be certain if Gwen herself had really managed to escape. He had a feeling that she had, though, because it seemed that the plan was to use Gwen as a messenger in order to lure Arthur here to save Merlin. Except… Merlin hadn't originally been in the picture, but Elyan had… which meant that if their newly improvised plan of using Merlin as bait failed, Morgause and her puppet king would simply find a way to dangle Elyan in front of her nose instead. Somehow, though, Merlin had a feeling that Arthur was going to come for him... well, if Gwen hadn't told him that Merlin had magic.

He still couldn't believe that Gwen knew the truth. He hadn't wanted her to find out this way; he wanted to tell her himself in a situation that was in his control, where he had a chance to explain everything and to assure her that he was  _not_  evil. He hadn't wanted his secret to be revealed because he was forced to use it in front of her. Gritting his teeth behind the gag, Merlin vowed that once this was over, he would sit Gwen down and explain _everything_. He would tell her that magic wasn't his choice and that it was his destiny to keep Arthur safe and help mold him into the great king he would become someday.

He didn't think she hated him even now, though, after finding out in such a dramatic and unorthodox way. He knew that Gwen was a wonderful girl and a sweet and caring friend but he had half expected her to be terrified of him, angry at him. Instead, though, he had heard the stark horror in her voice when Cenred was advancing with the knife and the hesitance to leave him when she had the chance. He couldn't just assume that she would instantly accept his magic, but there was a relatively good chance that she wouldn't just abandon him or tell Arthur straight away. But if Arthur  _did_  find out from Gwen, would he still go to rescue Merlin? The warlock's stomach tightened even more in on itself as he briefly entertained the possibility of Arthur knowing about his magic – and being told by someone  _else_  at that! Would Arthur simply leave Merlin to die, or be tortured, or whatever Morgause had planned for him now that he was within her grasp? The thought made him shudder slightly and before he even realized what he was doing, his magic acted instinctively, snapping the ropes around him.

His head spinning and vision blurry, Merlin sprang from the chair, wobbling on his feet and black spots creeping in on the corners of his vision, determined to get away. He couldn't stay here, not with Morgause, not when Arthur could be on his way to save him. He wasn't going to be at the witch's mercy. He would fight his way out, find Gwen's brother, they would escape…

His eyes flashed again and Morgause barely reacted in time to his spell. But react she did, unfortunately, with a rather clever shield that not only  _blocked_ Merlin's oncoming wave of magic but  _repelled_  it back to him. If Merlin hadn't been dazed and injured, he might have been able to break through her barrier but as it was, the stream of magical energy he had sent Morgause's way rebounded back to him and before his sluggish, dazed mind could process it, his own spell hit him full force in the chest and he was thrown across the room, his head smacking the back wall with force and pain encompassing him once again. It wasn't enough to make him pass out but he was on the brink of unconsciousness, apparently not in control of his body or even able to open his eyes, but awake enough to hear and comprehend most of what was going on around him. Unfortunately, this meant that he could still  _feel_ , too.

Pain radiated down through his head, which had now been clobbered four times and counting. His neck ached and his back and shoulders were tight, either from meeting the wall a few moments before or from having had his arms stretched and bound behind him for so long. He tried to open his eyes and they fluttered for a second before the pain from the dim cell light became too much. He heard the rustle of fabric on the floor and the click of heels – Morgause – and suddenly a hand touched his shoulder.

He could do nothing but lie there, limp but still aware, as his own spell drained him of his energy, his injuries pulling him toward unconsciousness. He resisted the lull of the abyss out of sheer stubbornness, though, because he wanted to know what was happening. He had to be prepared, he had to know. He found out soon enough. Several pairs of heavy footsteps entered the room, echoing off the stone walls. He tried to force his eyes open once again but failed, having to settle on his other senses to figure out what was going on. He was just so tired…

When he woke up, he was surprised because he hadn't even realized that he had fallen asleep. Or rather, that he had slipped into unconsciousness. He cursed himself for his stupidity, flinging the first offensive spell that came to mind at Morgause, not even taking into consideration that now that she knew about his magic she would have been prepared for an escape attempt like that. Still, though, she didn't know  _how_  powerful he was… although she may have more of an idea now, after the display earlier.

He blinked several times to adjust to the dim light, the pain in his head not so terrible that he had to keep his eyes closed. He moved his head and felt the caked blood on the back of his head and neck crack at the movement. Gritting his teeth through the customary bout of nausea he had felt every time after waking from being knocked out, Merlin moaned softly. Movement from the corner of the room caught his eye, as well as a flash of red in the flickering light of the bracketed candles on the slimy walls.

_Click. Click. Click._

The sound of her heels striking stone floor was ominous and he struggled, realizing as he did so that he was no longer tied to the chair – apparently Morgause had realized that probably wasn't the best way to confine a warlock – but sitting on the floor, back against the wall, arms chained above him. The chain that held his wrists reached all the way to the ceiling. There was a sort of wheel embedded in the wall nearby that the chains were attached to. Merlin wasn't sure he cared for the sight of the device, whatever it was.

Morgause stepped into view, her eyes glittering treacherously, lips twisted in a smirk. Her hair cascaded down her back and Merlin reflected like he had many times before that if her heart were not so foul, she would be very beautiful. As it was, he simply glared at her. She only smiled back before directing her gaze to the chains and saying, " _Weop undérwhopen lich_." Merlin cringed inwardly, recognizing the spell – it was the same one she had used on the chains binding him in the woods before the siege on Camelot earlier in the year. The spell that he had not been able to break free of, the spell that had almost cost him his life.  _If it hadn't been for the dragon…_

No. He couldn't think about that – yes, he  _despised_  feeling so helpless when he really was not, he couldn't dwell on it. Instead, he had to be thinking of any way possible to escape, even if it meant biding his time – not that he really had a choice here, most likely, because the last time she had used the spell it had been unbreakable. Despite his great power, the fact still remained that Morgause had had years of training on the Isle of the Blessed, brought up by priestesses of the Old Religion. While he had more raw ability than hers, her magic was still strong and she was trained in it. That had probably been why she had been able to overwhelm him in the Darkling Woods, and why she was doing it again right now.

_If – no, when! – I get back to Camelot, I'm going to take Gaius's advice and REALLY hit the books. I've got to be more prepared…_

He stared at her, forcing thoughts of Camelot out of his mind. He was already feeling homesick, which wasn't helping the situation. Not when he was chained in front of a dangerous enemy who was regarding him with both anger and excitement. He shivered, and not just from the cold air in the cell. "What do you want, Morgause?"

His voice sounded foreign to him, his mind still fuzzy from the many hits it had taken. He sat up straight, forced his shoulders back, and ignored the chafe and clank of the chains as the shackles around his wrists pulled as he moved. Merlin kept eye contact with her, refusing to show weakness. She regarded him coolly, chin raised regally and power bristling beneath her skin, wanting to burst from her fingertips.

"I want a lot of things, Merlin," Morgause replied calmly. "I want Morgana to take her rightful place as queen on the throne. I want Camelot to fall, Arthur to die, and Uther to suffer. But right now, Merlin, what I want most of all, is  _you_ – and the answers to any questions I ask."

Merlin fought the urge to roll his eyes – he had  _so_  seen this coming. He gathered up his resolve and snapped right back, "Oh, well, in that case – get used to disappointment."

* * *

Arthur was worried. He was really, truly, honest-to-goodness worried and he  _hated_  it. He was standing in the main living area of Guinevere's home, a smelly cloth in one hand and the other hand on the hilt of his sword. He felt sick and not just from the concoction that the rag had been sodden in –  _whatever_ had possessed him to pick up a strange smelling cloth from the floor and stick it right under his nose to take a  _giant_  whiff of it, he didn't know. The one thing he  _did_  know was that if Merlin had witnessed him almost passing out because of it, the idiot would have laughed and probably never let him live it down.

 _Merlin_.

Not only was Gwen nowhere to be found, but neither was Merlin. Arthur had checked the tavern on the way to Gwen's, just in case. He'd asked the bartender at the Rising Sun if he had seen Merlin at all. While the barman had said he knew who Merlin was, he informed the prince with a hint of a drunken slur that Merlin had most definitely  _not_  been in the tavern during the course of the night. Arthur had thanked him, uneasy feeling growing by the second, and continued on to Gwen's house.

And no one was there – just a drugged cloth that indicated Gwen had been kidnapped. The mere thought made his anger rise to its boiling point – someone deliberately taking and hurting  _his_  Guinevere? He would kill them!

And then there was the matter of Merlin. There was no evidence that Merlin, too, had been taken but the only other option that would correspond with Gaius's saying that the servant had walked Gwen home was really far too grim for Arthur to contemplate. If someone had been after Gwen – more than likely to get to Arthur somehow, which caused a wave of guilt to crash over him, unfounded as it was – and Merlin had just happened to have been there, there was a good chance that the kidnappers would have no need for him. And if that were the case…

No. Merlin was  _not_  dead. He couldn't be. Arthur had to tell himself that wherever they were, he was with Gwen, alive; they were together, watching out for each other. They  _had_  to be alive.

The very idea of someone kidnapping two servants was strange within itself but if whoever it was knew how he felt about Gwen – although how could they, really? – and that Merlin was his personal manservant (and quite possibly his best friend, although Arthur would never admit it, least of all to himself), they could  _all_  be in a lot of trouble.

Arthur frowned, still clutching the cloth in his hand, and strode purposefully out the door and into the semi-crowded early afternoon streets of Camelot, ignoring any bows or "Sire"s as he went. Merlin and Gwen were missing, almost certainly kidnapped, and Arthur  _had_  to make his father see reason and let him go find them. He knew that his father didn't care much for servants, but these were two servants that Arthur  _did_  care about and he wasn't just going to leave them out to dry.

And if his father  _didn't_  approve of his mission, then he would find a way to go anyway, with or without Uther's blessing.

* * *

"Merlin, a sorcerer," Morgause breathed, slowly pacing back and forth in front of Merlin, setting his nerves on edge. "I should have known."

"Yes, you should have," Merlin said a bit crabbily, fed up with how she was purposefully trying to draw everything out, "but don't feel bad. No one ever does. You'd think that  _someone_  would've worked it out by now, wouldn't you?"

Morgause narrowed her eyes. "You'll soon learn not to be so flippant with your words, boy." She directed her attention to two thugs that had been standing almost docilely in the corner, probably trying to make themselves as small as possible in the presence of Morgause. At her curt nod, the men surged forward, moving past Merlin and to the wheel on the wall. Together they turned it and as they did, the device shortened the chain between Merlin and the ceiling, forcing his arms above his head and pulling him up. He grunted, his shoulders strained already, and Morgause put up a hand when her captive's feet were just dangling above the floor. He couldn't touch the floor, even though it was tantalizingly close, and all his weight was on his shackled wrists and arms.

Now they were roughly eye level and Morgause stepped closer. "Merlin," she said, putting a delicate hand on his chest, "you don't have to suffer."

Merlin felt his heartbeat speed up beneath Morgause's hand despite himself. So she  _did_  plan on torturing him…

"Look, hurting me will be a waste of your time," the young warlock said firmly. "I'm  _not_  telling you _anything_."

Morgause smiled, and the smile sent chills of fear down Merlin's spine. "Ah, but you misunderstand, Merlin – I only said that I wanted answers to questions that I ask… but not to  _whom_  the questions will be directed."

Merlin frowned. "What are you talking about?"

Instead of answering, Morgause removed her hand from Merlin and took a step back. "By this time tomorrow, Guinevere will have already arrived back in Camelot with a little help from my magic guiding and quickening the way, although she doesn't have to know that, and Arthur will be on his way to save you. But we'll be waiting for him." Her eyes gleamed evilly. "You see, Merlin, it isn't  _you_  we want to get answers from. It's Arthur – but we know how impossibly stubborn he is."

 _Oh, you have no idea._  Merlin wanted to voice his sarcastic agreement but found that the words stuck in his throat. He  _really_  didn't like the way this conversation was going.

Instead, he said, "If you are going to hurt me to make Arthur talk, then why the hell are you telling me I don't have to suffer? That's obviously your point!"

"Ah, but  _I_  can make the pain go away. And I will – after each questioning session –  _if_  you will consider my offer – join us. You are obviously powerful; you could be a force for justice, help us rid Camelot of its tyrants."

"Not going to happen. Do you really think I'm going to join forces with the person who just openly admitted she's planning on torturing me?"

"Hm," said Morgause. "We'll see what you say when King Cenred is done with you – after all, he  _does_  have his ways. Just as well, though," she added darkly, "after what you have done to my sister and your own kind – _helping_  the Pendragons! – I think it too kind to offer you a second chance. You will suffer, Merlin," she said and her voice was like ice, "and I will enjoy every minute of it."

She smirked, hissed an malicious sounding spell, and pain erupted from Merlin's chest, spreading through his limbs and nerves, causing pain – horrible, horrible, unbearable pain – to course through him. He may have screamed, although he wasn't sure. All he knew was that when the pain finally stopped, his throat hurt. She stepped closer. "That was nothing, Merlin," she said dangerously. "I went easy on you so that  _dear_  Cenred can have his fun…"

Merlin didn't respond, only shook and tried not to be sick.

Morgause scoffed and ordered her two flunkies, "Take him back to his cell. I'll make sure to send for him again when Prince Arthur arrives. And  _then_ , Merlin, we'll get what we want, one way or another. You can join us or die, I really don't care; I'd much prefer to see you suffer anyway. But Arthur  _will_  tell us what we want to know."

"You obviously d-don't know Arthur," Merlin gasped out, still weak from the pain.

Morgause glared at him. "Oh, but Merlin – I think I do. He's going to have a choice to make… and I wonder how long you will have to scream before the prince of Camelot tells us what we need to know, hm?"

Merlin's blood ran cold as the men unhooked the chain from the ceiling and began to drag him out of the room by it. Morgause was enjoying this  _far_  too much, he decided, trying to push away the raw terror that was almost consuming him. Of course, this wasn't really as much about  _answers_  to Morgause as she would probably like him to think. That much was obvious. From the evil, gloating look on her face, the anger as she looked at him, Merlin knew that Morgause was going to take full advantage of the man who had poisoned her sister (even if he had had no other choice) being unexpectedly dumped on her lap. Already she had morphed her plans to fit another sinister purpose as well as the original one.

Morgause's plight was no longer just about getting rid of Arthur and finding out what she wanted to know. No, she had another purpose in mind, a purpose, Merlin knew, that could only make his current situation that much worse – revenge.


	7. The Return

"Neither Merlin nor Guinevere showed up for work this morning," Arthur said seriously, his voice calm and measured. Inside, he was worried, but he couldn't let it show – he couldn't imagine how his father would react if he realized that the prince was so emotionally invested in a couple of servants. He had to remain distant, for their sake, even if he wanted nothing more than to go riding out after them this very instant.

Uther regarded his son, expression almost  _bored_ , for a few seconds before asking dryly, "Why are you telling me this?"

Arthur blinked, not all that surprised but still a bit disheartened by his father's apparent lack of interest. His facial expression hadn't changed in the slightest when Arthur had mentioned that two of Camelot's servants had gone missing sometime during the night. Arthur knew that as king, his father couldn't concern himself with the problems of every single peasant, but if one went missing,  _surely_  he should care enough to do something about it! Shrugging off his irritation, knowing that he wasn't going to be able to do anything to help Merlin or Gwen if he made his father angry by questioning his judgment, Arthur responded slowly, "Father, I have reason to believe that Guinevere and Merlin have been kidnapped."

Morgana's eyes went wide from across the table. Arthur had gone directly to dinner with his father after searching Gwen's house, determined to convince his father to send out a search party or at least allow Arthur himself to go looking for them. "Kidnapped?" she gasped, her expression terrified on the outside but Arthur had the strangest feeling that there was something in the way she was acting that he was missing.

"Ridiculous," Uther declared, eyes narrowing. " _Who_  would kidnap a  _servant_?"

"Merlin  _is_  my personal servant, Father," Arthur said. "Perhaps they thought that they could get information from him. And Guinevere is Morgana's."

"Somehow I have the feeling that the security of the kingdom is the last thing on your mind when it comes to these servants," the king said, annoyed, before sighing. "I think that you are overreacting, Arthur, but I will give you a party of guards to help you search."

Arthur nearly choked on the wine some nameless servant had just filled his goblet with, surprised. "You will?"

"Yes," Uther said, eyes moving lazily between Morgana and Arthur. "You have until nightfall."

Arthur's hope began to wane. "But Father," he said in the most respectful tone he could muster, "That barely gives us enough time to search the lower town, let alone the woods and outer villages."

The king's gaze was hard and Arthur knew that he would not be swayed. "Camelot's knights and guards have more important jobs to do than go searching for servants skimping out on their duties," he said harshly.

"Uther, please—" Morgana said, trying to help Arthur, to which the prince was grateful, but his father was as obstinate as ever.

"Enough. I've given you time to search, you still have many hours of daylight left. I suggest, Arthur, that you take the search party and take advantage of the time you  _do_  have before I change my mind."

The king's tone was hard and borderline irritated, and Arthur shut his mouth, internally seething at his father's callousness. He nodded curtly, praying to anyone who would listen that the search would be fruitful. Maybe his father was right, and they were simply taking a day off without telling their respective masters. But while Arthur wouldn't be surprised if Merlin did something like that, he could scarcely picture Guinevere shirking off her duties. He nodded at Morgana, bowed slightly to his father, and stood up. "I'll leave at once," he said.

"Good luck," Morgana called as he left the room, and Arthur thought once again that something wasn't quite right with the way she said it. He didn't think on it long, however, because he had more pressing matters to deal with – he had some servants to find.

* * *

Elyan opened his eyes as the door to his cell was once again flung open, and with a strange sense of déjà vu, he watched as his new cellmate, Merlin, he'd said his name was, was thrown into the room, strange shackles with some sort of runes etched into them clamping his wrists together. The chains were pulled forward and he was once again secured to the wall and the men that had brought him back left without a word, locking the door behind them.

"Merlin?" Elyan said, dark eyes taking in the trembling form of his new acquaintance. The young man, already a bit frail-looking, seemed to be on the verge of shattering. His skin, even in the darkness of the barely lit cell, was nearly white, his eyes tightly shut, small tremors running throughout his body. He didn't respond to Elyan's call so the man tried again. "Merlin? Are you alright?"

This time, Merlin managed to open his eyes, pain lacing his features. "I-I'm fine," he said, and Elyan knew he was lying.

"What did she do to you?" Elyan found himself asking, not really sure if he actually  _wanted_  to know the answer to that question. He hadn't seen much of the witch in his time here, but what he had witnessed of her scared him (although he'd be hard-pressed to actually admit that he was a bit frightened by a  _girl_ ). She was powerful, dangerous, and had a cold heart. Elyan knew that she was behind the whole thing, not King Cenred – anyone could see that she was playing him like a lyre; anyone but Cenred himself, it seemed. Elyan had been near the king more than he had his beautiful accomplice and Elyan had actually been a bit amazed at the leather-clad scumbag's level of stupidity. He walked around with an arrogance that Elyan hadn't seen before, like he was actually in control. Still, he was dangerous, and Elyan was sure that he enjoyed being so, but still…

The woman was in charge and she was deadly. Who knew what she had done to this young man, especially since she seemed to have had a personal interest in him when she talked to him before having him dragged out of the cell for a block of about four hours. Elyan had begun to wonder if Merlin was ever coming back when the guards had brought him. The pain in the boy's eyes and uncontrollable tremors were proof enough that the witch – because that was surely what she was – had done something to him.

"I'm fine, really," Merlin lied a second time, his voice a bit steadier. "Nothing… nothing I can't handle." Elyan's breath caught in his throat as his new friend's next words cut into him like a dagger. "It's what's coming next that I'm a bit worried about."

"She tortured you," Elyan said, knowing instantly that this was the case.

Merlin shrugged as best he could with his hands chained above him. "I guess. She used some kind of dark magic on me, making me hurt. But… it was only for a few minutes, I think…"

"Merlin," Elyan said slowly, swallowing back bile as he realized just how extensive this first bout of pain had been, "you were gone for  _hours_."

Merlin stared. "You mean to say… that went on for hours? It was really that long?" He shuddered. "No wonder I'm so bent out of shape right now." He forced himself to smile and Elyan had to wonder at his attempt to be optimistic despite the desperate situation. "But it doesn't matter. All that matters is that we find a way to get out of here before Arthur shows up."

Elyan's memory spiked at the name. Arthur? Could he actually be talking about—"The prince of Camelot?"

"The one and only," Merlin acknowledged, answering Elyan's query. Talking seemed to be helping Merlin forget the after-effects of the torture and Elyan was desperate to figure out some answers so he didn't interrupt as Merlin gave the best explanation he had. "As far as I can tell, this is all about Arthur. I'm his servant, and, well, your sister… she and Arthur are in love."

Elyan sputtered. He  _sure_  hadn't been expecting that. Who would have thought? Guinevere, the chosen girl of the prince. But still, that had to be frowned upon in Camelot,  _especially_  with a man like Uther – the man who had murdered their father – ruling it.

"No one knows," Merlin reassured the taken-aback brother hastily. "Well, only a few people. Me, for one. I think our physician, Gaius suspects. And Morgana – although I'm pretty sure she's the reason… you know what? Never mind. The less you know about  _her_  and what's going on in Camelot, the better – if you don't know, they can't expect to extract any information from you." He took a deep breath, wincing, and Elyan thought about asking him if he needed to rest but held his tongue when Merlin started speaking again.

"Morgause managed to find out about Arthur and Gwen's feelings and decided to exploit them. So she had you taken, and as far as I can tell, her plan was to use  _you_  as a bargaining chip to force Gwen's hand and make her bring Arthur back here to rescue you – it was to be a trap and they were going to capture – or kill – Arthur."

"But then they found you…" Elyan couldn't help but interrupt, his mind beginning to put the pieces together. "But why take you if they already had me?"

Merlin hesitated before saying in a rush, "I'm the prince's personal manservant and we're fairly good friends. I guess they thought that they'd be able to force Arthur's hand even more if it was me instead of a man he didn't even know, despite his relations." Elyan nodded and frowned, something not quite adding up in Merlin's story. How would they have even known who Merlin was if some random thugs had been chosen to kidnap Guinevere? If she was the target, anyone else would have either been knocked out and left or killed. Why take Merlin when they more than likely had no idea that he was the prince's servant… although why the man would divulge such information was beyond him.

Merlin was talking again and Elyan realized that he'd missed a few words, having been caught up in his musings. "—know what such a stubborn ass Arthur can be, they're planning on hurting  _me_  to get to him."

Elyan felt sick at the thought. Sure, he didn't know Merlin, but from what he'd seen, the man was kind and gentle. He cared about his friends and wanted above all to protect him. And yet Morgause and Cenred were going to torture him to get to his master? It just didn't seem fair. Even so, Elyan couldn't help but feeling a bit of guilty relief that it wasn't his sister that was going to be used against the prince – he knew that if it wasn't for the need for a messenger to Arthur and some sort of fixation on Merlin on Morgause's part, it very well could be Guinevere in Merlin's place. As much as he hated himself for thinking it, Elyan, as the big brother, was glad it was Merlin instead of Gwen that was going to be used against Prince Arthur in such a violent manner.

Merlin correctly interpreted his silence and his voice was warm and understanding when he said, "Don't feel bad, Elyan. I'm glad it's me instead of Gwen, too."

They fell into a friendly but strained (because how could they  _not_  be strained, locked up and injured as they were?) silence as the minutes ticked away, each one bringing with it more anticipation and fear.

* * *

Arthur was  _not_  in a good mood. They had searched all through the lower town and through one of the outlying villages for any sign or trace of the wayward servants. The prince resolutely ignored the bunched up ball of nerves that had formed in his stomach as he headed back to the castle, defeated. He would search more tomorrow, blessing or no blessing from his father, but there was no way he could continue the search in the dark, especially when Uther was expecting him back. If he was going to sneak off and continue the search, he would have to come up with a feasible lie to cover it. He couldn't just disappear; his father would know instantly what he was up to.

As he was walking from the throne room after telling his unconcerned father of his lack of success, the distracted prince didn't watch where he was going and ran headlong into someone who was all but hurtling down the corridor. Both stumbled but he instinctively steadied the woman's arm and looked at her face… nearly shouting in surprise and relief. Instead, he settled for a hushed, joyous, "Guinevere!"

The girl he loved didn't respond immediately, only looked at him with tear-filled dark brown eyes. He knew instantly that something was wrong… very, very wrong. His suspicions were confirmed moments later when Gwen stammered, "Arthur, it's Merlin… they let me go, but k-kept Merlin there and he's alive, but Arthur, you should know, he's, well, he's… he's…"

She burst into tears and Arthur's heart hammered wildly as he waited for her to finish. What was wrong with Merlin? "Guinevere," the prince said softly and sternly, putting a strong and comforting hand on one of her slender shoulders. "What about Merlin?"

"Arthur, Merlin has—"


	8. Answers

"Arthur, Merlin has—" Gwen cut herself off, conflicted. What was she doing? Was she  _really_ just about to tell the prince of Camelot, no matter how much he meant to her, that Merlin had  _magic_? She knew how much Uther hated magic, how he tried and vowed to never stop trying to eradicate it from the kingdom. She had suffered because of magic, at least indirectly, since Uther had once sentenced her to death because he thought her responsible for a plague. And yet it had been  _Merlin_  that had saved her then. Just as he'd saved Arthur and even the king.

She would never turn him to be executed, the thought hadn't even crossed her mind, but Arthur  _was_  Uther's son. She knew that he cared about Merlin, but how would he react if he found out the truth, a truth that she was still trying to comprehend herself? Would he rescue Merlin, only to bring him back and have him executed? Surely not, that wasn't like Arthur, who had grown up considerably since  _Merlin_  had come into his life. Would he simply leave Merlin in the hands of the enemy? No… he wouldn't… would he? Part of her, the part that belonged solely to Arthur, insisted that Arthur would never do that to Merlin, that he would understand, even if she didn't fully grasp all that had happened, and he would drop everything to go and save Merlin. Still, a small sliver of doubt had wormed its way into her mind and she worried, wondered – if Arthur were to know what she had just witnessed, that  _Merlin_  had  _magic_ , would he still save him?

"Guinevere." Arthur's voice was urgent, almost pleading, and the expression in his eyes was worried. "What happened to Merlin? Is he…" Arthur couldn't seem to finish the sentence and Gwen realized with a rush how he had interpreted her silence.

Quickly coming to a decision, hoping that she wouldn't regret it later, Gwen quickly shook her head. "No, he's alive… but he has… has… Arthur, he has been kept prisoner by King Cenred."

Arthur's eyes went wide and an aura of fury seemed come out of him in waves. " _What?_ " he snapped. "King Cenred?  _That_  was who captured you?"

"Well, not him personally," Gwen said hastily.

"But his men," Arthur said slowly, calmly, and Gwen wished she could be like him because she was panicking on the inside. She couldn't stop seeing Merlin, gagged and held by the enemy's men, cold blade all but slicing his skin. Magic or not, Merlin was her  _friend_  and it terrified her to see him in such a position. "His men kidnapped you."

Gwen nodded, tears brimming her eyes. "Merlin walked me home. I told him he didn't have to, but he said he wanted to make sure I got home safe. He seemed a little on edge and really worried, so I let him." She took a breath. "When I got home, I invited him inside—" Here her cheeks flushed and she quickly amended, "I mean, I asked him if he wanted to come in and warm up before heading back home, of course, I just—"

"Guinevere," Arthur interrupted. "Don't worry. I trust you. Both." His voice was urgent as he said, "Please, continue."

"We went inside and he all of a sudden went tense behind me. The next thing I knew, he was telling me to run. I didn't want to leave him, but he yelled for me to run again and I knew something was wrong. Before I could get to the door to escape, a m-man – a  _huge_  man, b-bigger than you – blocked my way. He put a cloth to my face and it smelled so bad, and I fell asleep. When I woke up, I saw that Merlin had been kidnapped, too."

She quickly ran through all that had happened since they had been taken – being used as leverage, Cenred pulling a knife on Merlin, Merlin being hit and knocked out again (here, her voice cracked considerably), and the ultimatum Cenred offered. She skimmed over the parts that involved Merlin using magic. When she was done, Arthur's eyes were burning with a fury that sent a chill of fear through her, even though it wasn't she who he was angry with.

"Arthur?" she asked slowly, voice trembling. She wondered distantly what was happening to Merlin right now. Arthur didn't answer. "I-I'm sorry, Arthur, I shouldn't have l-left, but he told me to – Merlin, I mean – and I thought y-you were the only one who c-could save him…" She knew that Merlin needed help even if he did have magic, considering he was injured and they had managed to subdue him despite his power by more than likely giving him a concussion.

"It's not your fault," Arthur said in a low, dangerous voice. "You did the right thing, Guinevere, getting yourself out of danger. If they had hurt you…" His voice shook.

"But I'm  _fine_ , Arthur," Gwen insisted, hesitating before putting a hand on the side of his face, caressing it gently. "It's not me you need to worry about – it's Merlin. But…" Her eyebrows furrowed, "…it's a trap, I'm sure of it."

"Yes," Arthur said matter-of-factly, no trace of doubt in his tone. "Of course it's a trap."

"What are you going to do?" Gwen asked, stroking his cheek with her thumb once more, praying that no one was going to walk around the corner and find them like this.

"First,' Arthur answered, gently taking her hand and narrowing his eyes at her raw and bloody wrists, hurt by the ropes, "I'm taking you to Gaius, letting him bandage you up.  _Then_  I'm going to explain everything to Gaius, make up a cover story, and go and bring the idiot back home."

"But you'll be walking right into—"

"Don't worry," Arthur said, kissing her hand gently. "I'll be fine. You'll see. I'll bring Merlin home and never let the two of you out of my sight again." He was smiling slightly when he said the last words and Gwen almost found herself lost in his eyes.

"I wouldn't mind that," she murmured, "although I have a feeling Merlin wouldn't be too happy about it."

Arthur chuckled, but it was forced. She could see that he was struggling over his worry for his servant – despite what he always insisted, she knew that they were the best of friends. "Well, too bad. He'll just have to get over it." He put a hand on her shoulder and began to guide her as they walked toward the physician's chambers. "It'll be fine," he said again, although Gwen knew that this time he was just trying to reassure himself. "I'll bring him back."

Neither one said another word until they reached Gaius's chambers, both lost in their own train of thought, Arthur's mind whirling about to think of a plan to get out of Camelot without his father being suspicious. As for Gwen, her thoughts were encompassed by her missing friend and the secret magic she now knew he possessed.

* * *

"So," drawled King Cenred as he walked into his throne room and plopped down lazily onto his throne, Morgause standing regally beside him. She was still beautiful, still fierce, and he still yearned for her more than anything. Still, he was becoming a bit annoyed by her evasiveness when it came to her plans. She knew everything about what he was going to do, wanted to do, or was no longer planning to do. She was aware of his actions – always. And yet, most of the time, she told him very little about her plots, simply dragging him along and telling him what  _she_  wanted him to know when  _she_  wanted him to know it. It was exasperating, borderline infuriating, and if Morgause wasn't so beautiful, Cenred would have been done with her by now. At least, that's what he thought when he was alone, but when she was near, he could, as always, seem to think of nothing but  _her_.

Now, though, he was quite determined to get some answers. He had been relatively up to speed until the other servant –  _Merlin_  – had become involved. Morgause had stopped him from killing the magical brat before becoming positively delighted that he was now in her grasp. For some reason, Morgause  _hated_  this sorcerer with a passion and was going to use him for her plan instead of the girl's brother, although she did want to keep him around, just in case something went wrong with the new plan. When he had asked her – right before she went to have a "talk" with him – what was so special about the boy, she had merely replied, "Later, Cenred." And so he had waited. But now, that evening, he wanted answers. He had some scrawny sorcerer in his dungeons and had no idea who he was, what he meant for them, and why Morgause wanted him so badly.

"So," he said one more time, before pausing for dramatic effect (although the dramatic effect was a bit nullified by the squeaking of his leather trousers as he shifted slightly) and asked, "Who exactly  _is_  this boy, Morgause?"

Mogause's intense brown eyes fell on the king and he forced himself not to squirm under that gaze. Something in her eyes sent chills down his spine – more so than usual, that is – and he bit back a gulp. Anger, raw and unbridled, danced in her eyes as she thought about the young man chained below. The almost maniacal anger faded after a moment and suddenly a bit jealous, Cenred asked, "An old flame of yours?" He was only half-joking. Honestly, the boy was  _far_  too young for Morgause but he had to make sure.

Morgause laughed. "Don't make me laugh, Cenred," she scoffed. "Merlin is a servant… Prince Arthur's servant, to be exact."

Cenred raised his eyebrows. "Yes, that much I had gathered." An almost fearful pause and then – "But you know him, Morgause, and you hate him. Why?"

"Why?" Morgause asked, her voice breathy and dangerous. "I have always despised him, Cenred, that is certain – ever since he  _poisoned_  my sister."

"Oh," said Cenred, having heard this angry tale before about how some serving boy who couldn't mind his own business had poisoned Morgana to stop the spell that was putting Camelot into a deep sleep because Morgana was the vessel. He just hadn't known  _who_  the servant was. Now he did, and it explained a  _lot_  of Morgause's anger – and the agonized screams coming from an isolated cell in the dungeon earlier that day during the "talk". "Him."

"Yes, Cenred,  _him_. But now I have learned something far greater – he is a sorcerer. He has magic!" Her voice rose angrily with each word. "He has been gifted with power, could have helped Morgana, could have joined our cause. Instead, he protects  _them_  – the Pendragons, the very same that threaten our kind's existence. He is a traitor, Cenred. A traitor to his kind, a traitor to magic."

"But I assume revenge is not all you have planned, is it, my lady?" Cenred asked knowingly.

"You know me  _too_  well, Cenred," Morgause purred, placing a feather-light hand on his shoulder and caressing his neck with long fingernails. He grew stock-still and waited for her to speak again. "Before I let my petty yearning for justice get in the way of the greater plan,  _you_  are going to play your part."

"My part?"

"Yes. The prince isn't to know that I am involved. Not yet. And so  _you_  will act as if you are the one behind this,  _you_  will do the questioning. If he finds out that magic is involved, he will be that much harder to break, even with his servant's life on the line."

"But what if he finds out the boy has magic?" Cenred wanted to know. "If Arthur hates magic as much as his father, he will not care what happens to the boy. He'll let him die and we will not get answers."

"Then you had best hope that Arthur does  _not_  find out about his servant's… gifts," Morgause hissed dangerously, "Or he will not be the only one to regret it."

Cenred did gulp this time, the threat oh-so-clear. He glanced up, saw her flawless, fierce face, and his heart raced a few beats ahead. She was beautiful, and he was fine. She was just saying that. It's not like she would hurt him. Or  _could_  hurt him. Because  _he_  was the king, the man in this relationship. Morgause wouldn't dare overstep that boundary.

And yet, a small part of his mind said, she already had.

"Cenred?"

"Of course, my lady," he said, distracting himself from his doubts – he would save them for later, like he always did. In the dark. When he was alone. Now, she might somehow see what he was thinking – he wouldn't put it past her, she was so powerful. Then he smiled, true anticipation racing through his bloodstream, a sadistic joy filling him to the brim like it always did when he was going to get to flaunt his power over another person, show them that  _he_  couldhurt them and there was  _nothing_ they could do about it. Torture. His specialty. "Do not worry, Morgause… I will not fail you. By the time I am done, both Prince Arthur and his serving boy will be begging for mercy."

"Make sure you don't kill the boy, Cenred. I want him alive for my revenge."

"Fine," he grumbled before casting a glance at the sadistic look on Morgause's face and he realized that if he had a heart at all, he would be feeling  _very_  sorry for the servant. When the prince arrived and waltzed right into the trap, the sorcerer's life was going to get a  _hell_  of a lot worse.


	9. Caught

Arthur dug his heels into his horses side, urging the beast to go a bit faster as Camelot fell back into the distance. Thankfully, his father had bought the hastily improvised story that he had made a bet with Morgana and lost – resulting in a need to travel out of Camelot to purchase enough silk for two new dresses. It had been a half-baked plan and even Arthur was surprised that it had worked. Then again, his father was well aware of Morgana's stubbornness and if Arthur's tale  _had_  been the case, he would have more than likely been just as urgent to get out of the city – he had grown up with Morgana and he knew that Morgana usually got want Morgana wanted –  _unless_  she was speaking out against punishment of someone with magic or if it would infringe on her own safety. Otherwise, his father's ward got want she wanted, and regardless of the situation, she wouldn't give up. It only stood to reason that Uther had allowed Arthur to leave Camelot with naught but a chuckle and a reprimand against gambling.

Morgana had also insisted on coming along, as had Gwen. While Arthur had managed to persuade Gwen to stay as he didn't want her to get hurt (and yes, he knew that Merlin was Gwen's friend too and he  _promised_ that he would bring the idiot home safe and sound), Morgana had been much more difficult to dissuade from accompanying him – and by difficult, he meant more along the lines of  _impossible_. As he had previously reflected, Morgana was expert at getting her way. Upon finding out why her maidservant hadn't been at work and learning that Merlin was still in the clutches of King Cenred, the headstrong young woman had  _demanded_ Arthur let her come. "You might be going to save Merlin," she'd said, a teasing lilt to her voice, "but who's going to watch your back?"

"I can take care of myself,  _Morgana_ ," Arthur had reminded her a bit patronizingly and she had glared at him, but this glare seemed a bit different, not exactly the teasing look that he was used to being sent in his direction. He quickly shook off the feeling, sure that his overly-stressed mind was just playing tricks on him. Of  _course_ Morgana wasn't really angry with him; she was just making a point – that he wasn't going to stop her from accompanying him and helping their – her – friend.

"Right," Morgana had said, a smile lighting up her beautiful face again, "I'm sure you can." Sarcasm was rich in her tone and Arthur rolled his eyes. "But since we're not going on a rescue mission at all, but a foreign silk-hunt, I'm assuming you'll need my help picking out the patterns and colors, yes?"

"Morgana," Arthur huffed, exasperated.

"I've already cleared it with Uther – I'm coming with you, Arthur Pendragon."

And that was that. Morgana was now riding behind him, her white mare's hooves kicking up dirt as she galloped alongside Arthur and his horse. "How do you know where he's being held again?" Morgana asked, her voice raised as she spoke into the wind rushing past their ears. "Cenred could have him anywhere, right?"

Arthur's gut clenched even tighter into the frazzled little knot it had managed to tie itself into at the reminder that Merlin – stupid, clumsy, well-meaning, friendly  _Merlin_  – was currently locked away in a cell somewhere, injured and at the mercy of a brute like Cenred. Forcing his thoughts away from such dark places, Arthur responded, "He wouldn't necessarily take prisoners to  _his_  main castle, would he? After all, that's much too obvious. But he still wanted me to be able to work it out, more than likely so that I'd walk into a trap."

"Of course," Morgana said, her voice pleasant but a bit forced. Arthur knew that she was worried about Merlin, too – not that  _he_  was worried, of course, that was preposterous – and didn't pay attention to her strained tone.

"There's a castle that's been mostly abandoned, although we've gained some reports from patrols and spies that Cenred has been known to use the Castle of Fyrien as almost a second home. It's the perfect hideout for a coward like Cenred."

"What does he use this castle for?"

Arthur's voice was grim and he forced himself to look straight ahead as he answered the question. "Mostly we figure for holding prisoners of war, people who he wants to make sure are extra secure. But mostly as a hideout. I'd stake my life that Merlin's being kept there."

Morgana didn't answer and Arthur glanced over to see that her face was determined and maybe even a bit angry.

"Don't worry, Morgana," Arthur said, reaching over with one hand and lightly squeezing her shoulder comfortingly. "Merlin will be fine. You'll see."

They rode in relative silence until night fell and then they set up camp. Tomorrow, about midday, Arthur predicted, they'd reach their destination – and, as he'd told Morgana, who seemed supremely interested in the new information, they would take Cenred and his men by surprise through a secret tunnel Arthur knew about that let out near the sea. This time tomorrow, Merlin would join them at the campfire. Arthur just wouldn't accept anything less.

* * *

"Sister."

Morgana walked forward at Morgause's quiet call, encircling her arms around the blonde woman's shoulders. It was late, maybe midnight, and Arthur's watch was over. Morgana had heard her sister's voice in her head shortly after Arthur had fallen asleep, telling her to meet Morgause a bit deeper in the forest. Morgana had been relieved, confused as she was about the change of events. Imagine her surprise when Gwen returned, claiming that  _Merlin's_ life was on the line.

The sisters pulled apart and Morgana asked, "What happened? I thought that Gwen's brother was to be the bait. What does  _Merlin_  have to do with this?" She paused, gathering her thoughts. "Why did Cenred's men take him, too?"

"I thought you wanted revenge on the boy who poisoned you," Morgause said softly, eyes searching Morgana's face.

"I do – of course I do," Morgana hissed, anger lacing her words. "But I don't understand. I thought this was about Arthur, not Merlin."

"It was," Morgause agreed, blonde hair bobbing as she nodded. "But there have been some very…  _interesting_ developments, Sister."

* * *

"How are you feeling now?"

Merlin winced at Elyan's question. He knew that the man was just trying to be nice, which he was grateful for, especially since they were imprisoned in a tiny, dark cell, but he wished Gwen's brother would let him rest – the small, polite stream of conversation he'd started up an hour or two ago was draining Merlin of his energy. He  _really_  wanted to sleep. "'M fine," he answered. In actuality, Merlin's head was spinning, his stomach rolling dangerously, his vision – not that it was very great in the dark, anyway – was blurred. On top of the symptoms of the concussion that he  _knew_  he had, he was also weak, small shards of pain still shooting through him at random intervals, although the pain had been coming less and less frequently as time wore on. He assumed the latter was an after-effect of Morgause's torture.

"You're a terrible liar," Elyan observed.

Merlin grunted, letting his eyelids droop a little more. "You'd be surprised," he remarked, trying to ease the spinning of his head. No matter how hard he'd tried – speaking the spells in his mind, of course, and averting his eyes from Elyan – he hadn't been able to perform any magic to escape from the chains or cell. He didn't understand. When Morgause had confined him in the Serkets' nest a few months prior, while the chains had been unbreakable, Merlin had still been able to use his magic, just not to break his bonds. Perhaps the chains had also made him a bit weaker, but not like this – now his magic simply  _refused_  to cooperate and it scared him. It would be terrible enough not being able to use his magic on a normal day, in a mundane situation. But here, while he was at the mercy of Morgause? It was absolutely terrifying.

"Merlin?" Elyan said for what seemed to be the umpteenth time.

"What?" Merlin responded a bit crabbily. He  _really_  wanted to rest his eyes… if only for a minute.

There was the sound of the clink of chains as Elyan shifted. "You awake?"

"Mmph," Merlin muttered.

"You need to stay awake – if you've got a concussion, sleeping will only make it worse."

"How do you know so much?" Merlin asked blearily. Now that he thought about it, he might have heard Gaius saying something similar before. Thankful for Elyan's effort to keep him awake, Merlin opened his eyes a bit wider and gripped the chains holding his arms above his head, using them to pull himself up a little straighter. He would stay awake.

"I've had a hell of a lot of head injuries in my life," the other man said, a hint of a smile in his voice.

"Oh yeah?" Even sitting up, the pressing darkness made it difficult not to succumb to sleep.

"Yeah," Elyan acknowledged. "The first time was when I was eight. Gwen and I were helping Father with the forge. There was a hammer lying in the floor…"

Merlin leaned his head back against the wall and listened to Elyan's voice, soft and melodious, kind of like Gwen's, he mused, as he began to recount some of his more harrowing adventures. Thankfully, the tales were rather gripping, and gradually Merlin's urge to sleep waned a bit until they were both sitting, quiet and lost in thought, once again.

* * *

Morgana gently fingered the ring Morgause had given her. When she and Arthur had reached the secret entrance, she was to drop it and it would alert her sister – and by default Cenred and his men – as to where they were at. Then Cenred would capture them and Morgause would have Prince Arthur in her clutches – and Morgana would be next in line for the throne.

A small shiver went through her at the thought – or maybe it was at the memory of what Morgause had revealed to her in the shadows of the trees last night. Merlin, a sorcerer. It seemed such a foreign idea, so impossible, but at the same time, it just… fit. It certainly explained why he had been able to foil their plots in the past, how he had managed to escape from the chains – although Morgause had upped the spell on these chains since then – and how he had known that Morgana had been the vessel of the sleeping spell on Camelot last year. It explained  _so_  much and made Morgana hate him all the more.

He was like her, with magic, yet he chose to protect those who would kill him in a heartbeat if they knew. He protected a kingdom, king, and prince that stood against everything that he was. He had stopped her plans to kill Uther and overthrow Camelot when he should have been aiding her. He was a traitor and he would pay.

She followed behind Arthur as he snuck around the large, foreboding castle that jutted from the landscape imposingly. She knew that Arthur wasn't going to face any trouble out here – it was  _inside_  the Castle of Fyrien that the prince would be caught. A small twinge of guilt tried to rise to the surface as she remembered what Arthur had once been to her – a friend, like a brother (oh, how too true that was!), someone she could count on. She knew that after Morgause and Cenred were done with him, Arthur would most certainly die. Could she really do that to him? She thought about the way that he sought to protect her, not wanting her to go on the quest to "save" Merlin.

 _No,_  she told herself stoically,  _he is just set in his ridiculous mindset that women are weak. It's not like he actually_ cares _about me._

And she shoved all doubt about Arthur out of her mind. His death was the only thing that would place her next in line for the throne. Besides, she had already invested  _far_  too much into this plan and getting rid of him. She wasn't about to get cold feet now. This was who she was now, not the same naïve girl that had once thrown a fit at Arthur because she thought he wasn't going to rescue her maid. Now she was stronger, wiser, and understood more of her power.

Yes, if Arthur knew she had magic, he'd desert her in a heartbeat, she decided, however untrue that might be. She hardened her heart and no more second thoughts even  _thought_  about entering her mind. When the entrance to the tunnel came up, the ring slipped out of Morgana's fingers and hit the stones below with a muffled  _clink_  and she smiled. Soon, she would be second in line for the throne. Soon, she would be queen. The idea was enough to quell any further doubts that may have cropped up otherwise.

"Morgana, maybe you should stay out here and keep watch," Arthur whispered as they inched closer to the mouth of the tunnel.

"You mean keep out of danger?" she said peevishly, eyes darting around for any sign that the ring had worked and that Cenred's men were on their way. "Please."

"Morgana—"

"Merlin's in trouble and I'm not going to stand by and watch," she said, a bit surprised at how easily the blatant lie escaped from her lips.

Arthur smiled ruefully. "He's lucky to have you," the prince commented. Morgana almost laughed at the irony.

They entered the tunnel, which was dark, musty, and smelled  _terrible_. The stench probably had a lot to do with the skeletons that lined the walls – remnants from an old battle Arthur had told her about, the very battle that had provided him with the information about the secret tunnel in the first place. Cob webs lined the walls and a cool draft, probably from somewhere within the castle, swept through. If she hadn't known what was going on or if she hadn't had any control over the situation, Morgana would have been scared. As it was, she didn't make a sound, only followed Arthur deeper.

"The dust is covering everything," Arthur whispered softly. "This is good – it means no one has been here in a long time."

Morgana nodded, distracted, and then let out a little yelp of pain as she stepped on one of the loose bones littering the floor and pitched, face-first, ankle twisted, to the ground.

"Morgana!" Arthur muttered, dropping down beside her.

She shook her head. The pain wasn't really  _that_  bad and she knew that her sister could heal it with magic in an instant. She was mostly embarrassed and irritated at herself for tripping like that – like  _Merlin_. The thought of her would-be killer waiting in the dungeon spurred her into action and she climbed to her feet without Arthur's help.

"You alright?" Arthur asked.

Morgana limped forward, chuckling. "I'm fine." Her voice was tight and she knew it. If Arthur noticed he didn't have time to mention it because at that moment, a flicker of light shone at the other end of the tunnel – they'd been found.

"They must have heard me scream," she said in a high voice, mentally rejoicing at how easy this had been. A few minutes later, she was still in awe about how simple capturing the great Prince Arthur Pendragon was proving to be. He fought valiantly for a few minutes, but when she'd been grabbed by one of Cenred's men – Arthur, of course, unaware of where her loyalties truly were – he hesitated only a second before dropping his sword. The two were then tied with hands behind their backs, pulled by a sea of soldiers – more like stinky bandits, she thought, wrinkling her nose (at least Camelot's knights  _smelled_  decent) – toward the direction of the throne room. From there, they would part ways – Morgana, to be released with her sister, and Arthur, to the dungeons with Merlin.

Everything was going to plan.

* * *


	10. Questions

Arthur struggled fiercely as he and Morgana were dragged through the tunnel and into the Castle of Fyrien. At least he knew for sure that this was where Cenred's hideout was. But how had they known about the secret entrance? Morgana had claimed that they must have heard her scream, but if the tunnel was so secret, Cenred's men should have been nowhere near it. The only possibility was that the pathetic excuse for a king had already known about the tunnel – perhaps he had run across it while exploring or something.

Either way, Arthur knew that he was in a hell of a mess. He  _knew_  he should have never let Morgana come – now she had been caught as well, and the enemy had used her to their advantage – as leverage against him, just like Gwen had said the kidnappers had done to make Merlin comply. Still, Arthur found himself wondering what the idiot could have done to protect Gwen, let alone himself, in the first place. He wasn't exactly an intimidating figure.

Merlin. That was the only assurance Arthur felt at his current predicament. At least he would get to see Merlin, if the servant wasn't dead already. No. He couldn't think like that. They had used Merlin as bait to get Arthur to come rescue him, there's no way they would kill their insurance; they'd probably use Merlin to ensure Arthur didn't try to escape, provided that Cenred wasn't just planning on killing him on the spot. Somehow, he had the feeling that the king had more plans for Arthur – he probably planned on torturing the prince for information. A spike of fear shot through him at the thought but he pushed it away. He could cope with torture. He would tell them  _nothing_  if it came to it.

His musings – but not his strugglings, much to the dismay of the unfortunate guards who had been given the job of restraining their royal "guest" – were brought to a halt as the guards and their prisoners reached the throne room. As the leading man opened the doors, Arthur wondered, heart pounding in fear and anticipation, if Merlin would be behind them. Then the throne room door opened all the way and Arthur saw, worry biting at him every step he was forced to take into Cenred's hideout, that Merlin was nowhere to be seen. His blood boiled… if they had killed him…

"Prince Arthur. How  _kind_ of you to pay me a visit." The voice was low, dark, and the speaker seemed to be thoroughly enjoying this moment of triumph against the crown prince of Camelot. Arthur kept his head up high, still struggling, as he and Morgana were forced onto their knees in front of the throne where a leather clad, long haired man – Cenred, Arthur assumed – reclined lazily. With a squeak of leather against the seat of the throne, King Cenred stood and began to pace in front to Arthur and Morgana, his eyes gleaming excitedly.

Arthur growled and tried to surge forward, still kneeling, but was restrained by the men holding him. Morgana was being surprisingly docile, that is, until Cenred gave a dervish grin and said, "And look, you brought a friend… the Lady Morgana, no less."

Arthur let out a feral snarl as the king reached out a hand as if to touch Morgana's face. Before he could say anything, however, Morgana's eyes grew cold and she hissed, "Don't touch me, you  _pig_!" Arthur held his breath as Cenred stared at Morgana for a moment before chuckling humorlessly and turning away, back to Arthur.

"Where's my servant?" Arthur asked in a force calm voice. "What have you done with him?"

"Oh, don't worry," Cenred said coldly. "He's here and he's alive… for now."

Arthur's eyes narrowed and he spat, "I won't let you hurt him, or Morgana! They're innocent! Let them go!"

Cenred smirked. "That  _would_  be fair," he mused and Arthur could almost  _feel_  the sarcasm in the man's voice. Snickering, the king continued, "But fair is for fools." He nodded at the guards restraining Arthur and Morgana. "Take them away."

Arthur bucked, snarled, and squirmed futilely as he was dragged out of the room and to the dungeons. They had descended several flights of stairs before he realized that Morgana was no longer with him. "Where's Morgana?" he asked, voice tense.

There was no answer but a few minutes later, the prince was thrown into an empty cell, his hands finally untied.. As he was struggling to get to his feet with little help from the pins-and-needles sensation running through his previously bound hands,, he heard the cell door slam shut. By the time he was in a sitting position, his captors were nowhere in sight and it was dark.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed when the door to his cell was unlocked and with a clatter of chains and a few groans of pain, another figure was thrown into the cell with Arthur, not moving when it hit the dungeon floor. There was a cackle from the guard who had brought Arthur his new cellmate and then a clang as the door was slammed shut. Arthur instantly scrambled to the small figure's side, gasping as he recognized the familiar form of his manservant. "Merlin!" he whispered, dropping to his knees beside the prone boy, whose hands were bound with thick chains in front of him. Merlin grunted and shifted before a muffled grunt came from behind the cloth blocking his mouth. "Merlin, are you alright?"

Gently, Arthur pulled the gag out of Merlin's mouth, realizing that it was actually his servant's neckerchief. "Merlin?" Arthur said again.

Merlin's eyes drifted open from their half-closed position, widening as he realized that his master was kneeling over him. He shot into a sitting position, which was probably not the best idea considering the little spasm of pain that flashed across his face at the quick movement. Arthur instantly steadied his servant, who, Arthur realized in the dim light of the cell they were now sharing, had a rather sizeable lump on the back of his head and his dark hair was caked with dried blood. Blood running cold as the prince saw for himself that his servant – damn it all, his  _friend_  – was hurt. Merlin's eyes seemed out of focus and Arthur suspected a concussion.

"Arthur?" Merlin muttered sleepily, the chains around his wrists clinking as he struggled to sit up straighter. "What… what are you doing here?"

Arthur kept a steadying hand on his servant's shoulder and responded, "Rescuing you, idiot."

Merlin glanced at Arthur, then the locked door of the cell they were both trapped in, and chuckled weakly. "Yeah… I'm not sure you've got the whole concept of 'rescuing' down, Arthur."

Arthur laughed softly despite himself. "Idiot." He looked Merlin up and down. "Are you alright, Merlin? I know your head is hurt, but did they do anything else to you?"

Merlin looked at Arthur, opened his mouth like he was about to say something, but before he could, a strange, almost panicked look flickered in his eyes and his face momentarily transformed into a mask of unbearable pain. Arthur watched, on the verge of panicking, as Merlin squeezed his eyes shut. Finally, he opened them again, the excruciating pain gone but the steady, dull pain from the head wound still present.

"Merlin? What happened?" Arthur asked, concerned. He had a feeling that something else had happened to Merlin but he couldn't figure out what. The only sign of physical injury was the wound on his head and the boy's bloody wrists beneath he manacles.

"N-nothing," Merlin lied – it was  _so_  obvious that he wasn't telling the truth but Arthur didn't press the matter seeing as Merlin looked like he was about to pass out again anyway. "One of Cenred's men brained me from behind."

Arthur gritted his teeth. "I'm sorry this happened, Merlin."

Merlin gave his master a grim smile. "Wasn't your fault." His eyes shot all the way open, worried. "Gwen," he said, sounding like he was beating himself up for not asking until now. "Is she okay? Did she make it back to Camelot unhurt?" He paled. "What…" He cleared his throat. "What did she tell you?"

Arthur knit his brow. Why was Merlin acting so nervous all of a sudden, like he was  _afraid_  of what Gwen had said? Briefly, Arthur wondered if his servant had something to hide about what had happened but he shook the thought away before it was even fully formed. His tone slightly confused, Arthur answered, "She told me what you did—" Merlin's face paled. "And I wanted to thank you."

Merlin cocked his head, wincing as he did so. "Th-thank me?"

"Yes," Arthur said seriously. "For doing so much to protect Gwen, for not letting them hurt her. She told me how they used her for leverage and how you handled the situation well. It… must have been scary."

Relief flooded Merlin's pained expression before he said, "Yeah, a bit. But… I'd do the same for anyone."

Arthur scowled. "They used the same dirty trick to capture me."

"You brought Gwen  _back_  with you?"

"What? Oh, no. Of course not. Why would I do that? No, they used Morgana against me."

"Morgana?" Merlin's voice was tense.

Arthur scowled. "Cenred's men took her somewhere else. I hope she's okay."

"Don't worry," Merlin said, and Arthur thought he heard a bit of bitterness in the young man's voice. "I'm sure she's fine."

Arthur was about to respond when the sound of a key being put into a lock sounded. Merlin and Arthur exchanged wary glances before Arthur, casting one more glance at his servant, rose to his feet, not letting a still woozy Merlin follow his motions. "Merlin, you need to prepare yourself," Arthur hissed quietly. "They're going to torture me, try to get information from me. I'm not going to tell them anything. But I don't want you to get upset. I'll be fine."

"Are you afraid?" Merlin responded as the clanking of the key continued.

"No." That  _may_  have been a lie. Even though Arthur felt he could cope with torture, he was  _not_  fond of the idea.

"I don't understand," Merlin said. "How can you not be afraid of pain?"

Before Arthur could answer the question, the door was finally swung open, revealing King Cenred, flanked by four of his guards. "Restrain the prince," Cenred ordered. Arthur gritted his teeth. He had known it – they were after answers before they killed him.

Arthur fought but was soon restrained to the wall, hands chained in manacles. The guards were now advancing on Merlin, pulling the servant to his feet, causing Arthur to hiss, "Leave him out of this!"

Grinning sadistically, King Cenred shook his head. "We can't do that, Prince Arthur," he said with a mocking bow. Arthur watched, helpless and angry beyond comprehension, as Merlin's wrists were attached to a set of chains connected to the ceiling, which were pulled up using a wheel attached to the wall. Groaning in pain, Merlin winced, glancing down at his feet which were an inch off the ground. All the servant's weight was on his wrists. Arthur blanched at the sight. How could someone string Merlin up like that? Merlin was innocent, a stupid servant!

A terrible feeling formed in Arthur's gut but the prince shoved it out of his mind. Cenred probably just wanted to get Merlin out of the way while he worked on Arthur. Cenred nodded at one of his men, who proceeded to tear Merlin's tattered shirt off with his bare hands. Merlin gasped, flinched, and tried to pull away, but to no avail. His bare chest glistened with sweat despite the chilly air of the cell. Arthur surged against his restraints, mind telling him that he was denying the inevitable. No, even  _Cenred_  wasn't this cruel, was he?

Smirking, the king advanced on Merlin, who was struggling in his bonds uselessly. With a smile, Cenred unsheathed a dagger at his hip with one hand, grabbed Merlin's dark hair with the other, yanked the boy's head back, and pressed the knife at the base of the boy's neck, right above his collar bone. "Are you ready to give me some answers, Prince Arthur?" Cenred asked before sinking the blade marginally into Merlin's bare flesh, causing him to gasp in pain and drawing a small pool of blood.

Arthur's chest ached with Merlin's as he watched. His mind was screaming at him,  _demanding_  that he tell the enemy everything he needed to know, just not to hurt Merlin. He couldn't stand the sight of Merlin, his good for nothing servant, his friend, restrained and with a knife pressed to his bare skin. It wasn't right! Merlin shouldn't be the one bleeding, it should be Arthur! The prince had fully expected to be tortured for information, not for Merlin to be hurt in his stead in an attempt to get him to talk.

 _No, no, no,_  Arthur thought wildly, hot tears pressing at the back of his eyes although he refused to acknowledge them.  _This isn't happening. This can't be happening. Merlin isn't going to be… to be tortured… it's all a nightmare…_

A ragged gasp of pain cut through the silence and Arthur's eyes snapped open to the knife being slowly dragged over Merlin's collarbone, the wound still shallow, toward his chest. "STOP!" Arthur roared.

"That wasn't an agreement on your part," Cenred chastised.

"D-d-don't tell him an-anyth-thing, Arthur," Merlin stuttered, pain lacing every word. Arthur knew he was right. He couldn't betray Camelot for Merlin. But how could he betray Merlin? As bad as it was right now, he knew Merlin's pain was only going to get worse. "I un-understand," Merlin continued. "C-Camelot is m-more important – AGH!" he broke off as Cenred drove the knife another centimeter deeper, a clear signal to shut up.

Arthur blinked the tears from his eyes, closing them. Maybe if he couldn't see Merlin's torment, he'd get through this without betraying his kingdom. He took a deep breath, swallowed, and refused to talk.

And so the interrogation began.


	11. Fun

The questions were running together in Arthur's mind. He'd been asked many questions about Camelot's defenses, weaknesses, inner workings, even the layout and structure of the castle itself. Cenred wanted to know so many things, things that Arthur had been trained to die rather than divulge, but it wasn't his life on the line this time. Merlin had done his hardest not to react to the knife against his bare flesh, slicing shallowly. In the past half hour, the boy's torso had been decorated with a myriad of red lines, nicks, and designs that ran together as blood dripped and pooled down his front. Arthur hadn't wanted to watch. He'd tried  _not_  to watch but every time he diverted his gaze from his agonized servant, Cenred dug the knife into Merlin's flesh deeper. So Arthur watched.

"I know the citadel is not impregnable," Cenred hissed, the knife's point barely pricking a small spot of untouched skin on the front of Merlin's shoulder, "because my army has almost made it to the castle. But there _has_  to be an easier way."

Arthur shook his head, numb. The knife sunk an inch into Merlin's skin, the deepest he'd gone so far. The boy hissed in pain but didn't scream. He had only screamed a few times since Cenred had begun to work on him. Arthur had to say that he was impressed at Merlin's stamina – or maybe it was just pure stubbornness. Be that as it may, Arthur was handling this a lot worse than his servant. He had done more cursing, yelling, struggling, and threatening than answering, unable to keep watching Merlin suffer because of him. This wasn't fair! If it was him being tortured it wouldn't be nearly this terrible but Merlin… It made him sick. "Please," Arthur said softly, trying a different tactic this time, trying to appeal to the twisted bastard hurting his friend. "Stop. Merlin has nothing to do with this; let him go."

"You keep saying that," Cenred said, circling the strung up and bleeding Merlin predatorily, eyes locked on Arthur's the whole time, "but you don't seem to understand that Merlin has  _everything_ to do with this. It is  _his_ suffering that will make you answer, and if you tell me what I want to know, it  _won't_  be about him anymore. I'll stop hurting him. But if you don't talk… he  _will_  hurt even more than he is now, and he  _will_  die. A slow. Agonizing. Terrible. Painful. Death." The king emphasized each word, sadistic pleasure twisted around each syllable.

"I can't…" Arthur gasped desperately, a lone tear streaming down his face as he watched Merlin's body begin to jerk with barely contained sobs of pain. "I can't betray my people. I won't betray Camelot."

Cenred didn't answer but began to slowly, cruelly turn the knife that was embedded over an inch into Merlin's shoulder. The sickening squelch of the blade slicing through the tender flesh and muscle was quickly blocked out by a scream of absolute anguish tearing from Merlin's throat. Arthur felt another salty tear slide down his face. "STOP!" he screamed.

To his surprise, Cenred did indeed stop, pulling the bloody knife out with a wet slurping noise, stepping back and regarding the grotesque job he had done on the boy's chest and abdomen like he was looking at a work of art, slightly bored. Arthur felt relief flood through him when Merlin was given a short reprieve from his torment until he saw why Cenred had ceased. Merlin had finally lost consciousness. While Arthur hoped it meant the boy was no longer in pain, the prince was afraid of why. Was it pain that had knocked him out, or maybe blood loss? What if there was something seriously wrong with Merlin due to all the trauma to his body? Arthur forced himself not to think that way and to just be glad that Merlin was of no use to Cenred whilst incapacitated.

Cenred smirked. "We'll leave you alone for now," he said, motioning for his guards to come and remove the limp Merlin from his chains. Arthur glared at Cenred. "Don't take him from this cell!" he growled, needing to know what was happening to Merlin at all times. What if Cenred hurt him more while he was gone.

Cenred strode forward and with the back of his hand, slapped Arthur across the face – hard. His ring dug mercilessly into the side of Arthur's face, the sharp jewel embedded in the ring drawing blood. Arthur didn't make a sound, despite the fact that his ears were ringing from the blow and the right side of his face felt like it had caved in. It was nothing compared to what Merlin had been through and up until the end the boy had barely made a sound. "Don't think that I'm afraid of you, Prince Arthur," King Cenred hissed, "because you, too, are at my mercy." Almost as an afterthought, Cenred smiled coldly and sneered, "And don't feel left out, _sire_ , because your time is coming…"

With that, he walked away, his guards dragging a limp and bleeding Merlin out of the cell between them. Arthur fought the panic attack that seemed imminent as he watched his friend being taken away. This was all his fault! He had done this to Merlin! He had been the one that had caused him to go through this hell. Hating himself but knowing that he had made the ultimately right decision in not betraying his kingdom, Arthur stopped thrashing around in his chains and instead slumped in them, defeated. If allowing your best friend to be tortured beyond endurance while you had a chance to stop it was the right course of action, this world, Arthur decided, was truly one screwed up place.

* * *

Morgause met Cenred, his men, and the unconscious Merlin outside of the cell. "Well?" she snapped, brown eyes seeming to bore into his soul… or what he had of one, that is.

"The prince is a stubborn man," Cenred said, avoiding her gaze. Her eyes were so intense. "But don't worry, he'll talk."

Morgause glanced down at the bloody form of her enemy like his suffering was nothing of consequence, perhaps a disgusting cockroach that had gotten into the grain or a pile of particularly nasty rat droppings. "I can see you had fun," she remarked dryly, eyes running over the cuts and jagged slices in Merlin's flesh, most of which were no longer bleeding because the blood that had flowed from them had dried and clotted over the wounds.

Cenred smiled his most winning smile which Morgause didn't even seem to notice. "Of course."

"Well. Don't forget, I have use for him yet. Do not kill him or damage him  _too_  badly."

Cenred nodded curtly, resisting the urge to pout at the woman in his life once again trying to control his actions and take away from his  _fun_. Then he looked at her face, saw her intense beauty, and decided it was worth it. My, she  _was_ beautiful when she was angry, wasn't she?

He nodded at her, dark eyes glittering, and went on his way, his guards and their prisoner right behind him, spirits slightly bolstered by the knowledge that yet more fun was to come.


	12. Sleepless Nights

Merlin had never been in this much pain in his entire life – and, as he'd told Gaius sometime last year when Arthur had the  _brilliant_ idea to pretend to be a commoner, he'd been, punched, poisoned, pelted with fruit… but  _this_ , this took the cake. He had woken up a few minutes ago to being pulled through the corridors of the dungeon and in more pain than he thought possible and everything had flooded back to him. Merlin honestly didn't know how he'd been able to keep quiet for so long. Maybe it was his magic coming to his aid, keeping the screams just begging to come out at bay. Or maybe he just couldn't stand to see Arthur more traumatized than he already was. Of all the ways to try and get information from the prince, this had to be the lowest – torturing someone Arthur cared about  _in front of him_? It was sick. Speaking of sick…

Merlin squeezed his eyes shut as he was dragged through the hallway between two of Cenred's men. No, he wasn't going to be sick. He braced himself as he heard a cell door being unlocked and opened. Sure enough, a few seconds later, he was literally  _thrown_  into the small cell, landing on his chest on the grimy floor, magic-restraining chains clinking the whole way. Pain encompassed him, searing through his sliced up torso and causing a choked scream to escape his lips. Someone entered the cell, stepped over him, and there was the sound of chains rattling and a key in a lock. Someone's gruff voice ordered, "Make sure he doesn't die," and then the footsteps of the guards and their king retreated, the door slammed shut and was locked, and Merlin thought he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder before he went under, pain slamming through him.

* * *

Gwen couldn't sleep. Arthur had been gone for less than two days already, but it felt like a lifetime. She wondered if she had made the right decision, not telling him about Merlin and what he could do. She could still scarcely believe it – Merlin, a sorcerer? It just didn't make sense. He was always so silly, so clumsy, so… not magical. She didn't think he was evil, of course. Heavens, no. She had never really thought that all magic could be bad. After all,  _someone_  had used it to cure her father of the plague that had been sweeping through Camelot. Gwen now suspected that it was Merlin who had healed her father – that would explain why he looked so torn up when she had been arrested for sorcery because of it.

Still, though… Merlin with magic. What if… what if everything had all been an act? She had known him for three years and he had been able to keep such a huge secret from her, from everyone, for that long. She had never even seriously entertained the possibility that Merlin had magic, even the various times that he was arrested for it, only to be found innocent later. With the amount of times that boy got into trouble for magic and then managed to worm his way out astounded her. But if he had been able to convince everyone that he was innocent of magic, what was to say that everything else – his kindness, his goofiness, everything about him that made him  _Merlin_  – wasn't an act?

No, that was ridiculous. The dispelled the idea almost as soon as it came to her. If Merlin had been acting, why would he have given himself up to save Gwen? Now was not the time to be doubting Merlin. He had saved her life, probably more times than she knew. The only thing that scared, really, was that Arthur was off to save him. What if Arthur found out and reacted badly? What if Merlin wasn't all that he said and hurt Arthur? No, Merlin would never hurt Arthur – they were best friends, anyone that spent a few minutes with them could see as much, even if neither one of them would admit that they cared about the other. But what if…?

Okay. This  _had_  to stop. She had been lying in her bed, staring up at the ceiling of her home and allowing these doubts, fears, and worries parade around her mind unhindered, for what seemed like hours. Maybe it had been, she'd lost all track of time. The point still remained, though, that she  _had_  to talk to someone. She'd been very vague when she'd spoken to Gaius earlier, had only told him the bare essentials. He had noticed how twitchy she was and had asked if she was alright and she had lied – had said that she was only worried about Merlin. In response, Gaius had informed her that he was sure the boy would be fine.

He seemed far too confident that Merlin would be able to get out of this. She wondered, for what was probably the hundredth time that evening, if Gaius knew about Merlin's magic. Even if he didn't, Gwen didn't think that Gaius was the kind of man who would turn on Merlin if he found out. But maybe, just maybe, Gaius actually had some of the answers she so craved. Her mind made up, the maid slipped out of bed, dressed, and hurried through the quickly darkening lower town toward the castle. Once inside, she set her sights for the physician's chambers. She knew it was getting late but she  _had_  to know what he knew. Otherwise, she was sure she would drive herself mad by morning.

* * *

Elyan was surprised that Cenred's guards had unchained him from the wall. His hands were still chained together by a lengthy chain, but he was no longer confined to one place. They had thrown Merlin into the room and then gone to their other prisoner, releasing him and then ordering, "Make sure he doesn't die." Then they left.

Hands shaking, Elyan got to his feet and stumbled over to Merlin's side, still trying to regain his equilibrium after having been held stationary for so long. The uncomfortable sensation of pins and needles was running through his arms but he ignored it, needing to know why their captors had acted like Merlin might die. Elyan muttered the boy's name but Merlin didn't stir. Carefully, he rolled the boy over and gasped at what he saw.

Merlin's chest was a mess of lacerations. There was more blood than flesh visible on his bare chest and the cuts were deep and jagged. There was a particularly brutal wound on the front of one of his shoulders that, from what Elyan could see in the dark, was at least an inch deep and maybe two inches wide. He wished he could get a closer look at it but it was so dark. Gritting his teeth, he stood up and banged on the cell door a few times. The little sliding window opened and one of the guard's faces filled Elyan's vision. "What?" the guard snarled.

"How," Elyan said with as much bravado as he could muster, "am I supposed to 'make sure he doesn't die' if I don't have anything to treat him with and no light?"

The guard rolled his eyes. "I didn't say  _heal_  him, I said not to let him die. As in, if he dies, you'll be next."

Elyan winced as the window cover was slammed shut. He got to his knees beside Merlin, trying to figure out the best way to help him. He had no water, he only got food and water when Cenred decided he could. He had nothing to clean the wounds with, nothing to stem the bleeding. At any rate, it was too dark to do much of anything to help. So he just settled for trying to make Merlin comfortable. That was about all he could do for him for now.

* * *

Gaius was still awake despite the late hour when there was a soft knock on his door. He had been mixing some potions and trying his best not to worry about his ward but that was proving to be easier said than done. Gwen had told him that she had been used as leverage so that Merlin would cooperate. But then again, she didn't know about Merlin's magic, did she? That meant that Gwen wasn't aware of Merlin's greatest weapon – and surely once Gwen was no longer in the picture, Merlin would use his magic to escape. Gaius had been hoping that Arthur's mission, noble as it was, would turn out to be a waste of time and that the prince would find Merlin relatively unharmed and already on his way back to Camelot, having escaped using his magic. Arthur and Morgana, whose presence did worry the old physician considerably, had been gone for nearly two days now and still no sign of their return. This knowledge did little to ease Gaius's mind.

With a slight groan of his old bones, Gaius rose from the chair he was sitting in and pattered across the room to the door. When he opened it, it was to a very nervous, wide-eyed Guinevere looking at him. "Gwen," he said, surprised to see her at this late hour. "What are you doing here? It's getting late."

"I know," she said, wringing her hands together. "But I couldn't sleep." She glanced at Gaius's made bed. "And I'm guessing I'm not the only one?"

The physician sighed and motioned for the girl to come in before sitting back down at the table. Gwen joined him, sitting across from him, and after hesitating, she said, "Gaius… I found out something about Merlin while we were captured."

Gaius felt his palms begin to sweat and he tried to convince himself that Gwen wasn't talking about Merlin having magic. Surely that boy had kept his powers a secret. He knew better than to let people, especially his enemies, know about his magic – if King Cenred or, heaven forbid,  _Morgause_ , found out about his powers, Merlin would be in  _serious_  trouble. "Yes? What is it?" Gaius prompted a little more abruptly than he'd meant to but he was feeling more anxious about Merlin's safety by the second.

Gwen closed her eyes, opened them, and blurted out, "I don't know if you already know, Gaius, but Merlin… he has magic."

Gaius thought he was lucky that his old heart didn't stop right then and there. If Morgause was with Cenred, which would only make sense considering Morgana was involved, and she knew about Merlin's powers… the witch had managed to subdue him before and would probably be able to again.

"Oh, Merlin," said Gaius.

"He did it to save me," Gwen said hastily, apparently mistaking Gaius's frown for one of disappointment or anger that Merlin was a sorcerer. She obviously still considered Merlin a friend and didn't want Gaius to turn him in to the king.

"Oh, I'm aware," Gaius grunted. "That boy always puts others in front of himself, even when his head is on the line, too." He patted Gwen's hand. "I'm glad he helped you, Guinevere. I just wish Cenred didn't know about his magic, is all."

"So you knew?"

"Yes."

Gwen didn't speak for a few moments. Then she gave Gaius's hand a squeeze and said in the most soothing voice she could muster, "He'll be fine, Gaius. Arthur will save him and bring him back, magic or not."

Gaius didn't answer. He only nodded, staring straight ahead and trying not to let his imagination run away with him. He  _had_  to believe that Gwen was right, that Arthur would succeed and rescue Merlin. But if he wasn't able to, or he found out about Merlin's magic, what then? Who was going to rescue the rescuer then? On top of all that to worry about, the physician still had to make sure that Uther didn't find out about any of this – if the king sent out knights to the Castle of Fyrien, the prisoners would almost certainly be killed, no matter their worth. Merlin, he feared, might be dead already.

No, Merlin was okay. He had to be, Gaius decided. After all, that clumsy boy was the one person Gaius cared about more than anything this late in life. Merlin was like his son and if he didn't make it, a part of Gaius would die as well.


	13. Slipping Resolve

Arthur was both relieved and terrified when Merlin was taken out of the room – relieved because he didn't have to be witness Merlin's agonizing suffering; terrified because his servant was out of his sight he didn't know what was happening to him anymore. Arthur had been left alone, still chained to the wall, and was trying to regain control over his emotions. He couldn't believe this was happening –  _how_  could this have happened?  _Why_  had Merlin been exploited like this?

He knew the answer, even though he liked to pretend he didn't. It was because of  _him_.

Merlin was his servant, and more than that, Merlin was his  _friend_. Just like Gwen, he had been taken and used because he was close to Arthur. It was  _Arthur's_  fault that they were in this situation, that Merlin was being brutally tortured for information that Arthur just couldn't give up. And every time that the prince refused to speak… Arthur shuddered, remembering the sound of a blade slicing flesh, the barely restrained grunts of pain as Cenred tortured his helpless servant. It was tearing Arthur apart to see Merlin like this and the horror of seeing his friend hurt was made all the worse by the knowledge that it was effectively Arthur that was doing this to Merlin. Sure, Cenred was wielding the blade, but Arthur was the one that was causing it to cut.

Merlin knew that, too. Cenred had been very clear when he told Arthur and Merlin that if Arthur didn't answer his questions,  _Merlin_  would be the one to suffer. Even though Merlin knew that every time Arthur refused to speak, he would be cut or punched or whatever other punishment Cenred decided to use on him. Despite knowing this, Merlin had told Arthur  _not_  to say anything, that Camelot was too important. Arthur had always known that Merlin was loyal, but this…

Arthur couldn't believe how blind he had been to the great character of his manservant he'd been until now. Sure, he'd always known that Merlin was a good man, loyal, and the closest thing to a friend Arthur had ever had. His eyes had been opened to a whole new side of Merlin, however – a side that, no matter how terrible things got for him, that would never give in, always stand firm, and never stop standing for those he cared about. He had seen a stronger side of Merlin, a determined side, and he couldn't be prouder to call the man his _friend_.

But Arthur could feel his resolve slipping. Even as he stood there, chained to the wall, trying to be strong, he could tell that he was fighting a losing battle. He couldn't betray Camelot, he knew that. He would rather  _die_ before he betrayed his people, his father, his kingdom. But would he rather watch Merlin suffer horrendously until death? How could he possibly be expected to choose between his kingdom and Merlin? He remembered the blood, the knife, the scream of agony tearing from Merlin's lips despite how desperately the servant tried to contain it. Merlin was suffering, was being tortured, and it was Arthur's doing – it might as well have been, anyway, because he was the one refusing to talk.

He closed his eyes, a single tear breaking past his defenses. He couldn't get that image of Merlin screaming, sweat beading his brow, blood marring his chest, the knife twisting in his skin, the convulsions, going limp, _hurting_ , out of his head. He tried to think about something else but Merlin's agonized face blocked any other thoughts he may have had. He cursed, flopping his head back to hit the wall.

And then, of course, there was also the matter of Morgana. Arthur had been so focused on Merlin and the horrible things Cenred had been doing to him that he had barely had time to think about his father's ward. He cursed himself for letting the girl come – he had known it would be dangerous, although he had  _never_ imagined that this rescue mission would have taken such a dark turn. He hoped that Morgana was okay, that Cenred didn't decide to hurt her next. It had nearly killed him to watch Merlin in so much pain; he didn't want to have to see Morgana tortured too.

He was caught up in his thoughts and barely noticed when the door creaked open. When a figure, slightly disheveled but otherwise in good health, was pushed into the room and the door locked behind her, however, Arthur's attention was focused on his visitor. His eyes widened and relief – and a bit of fear, although he wasn't sure why his instincts were going haywire at the sight of someone he trusted, however – and he breathed, "Morgana!"

* * *

Morgana smiled weakly at Arthur, knowing that she had to play this just right. She had been in the throne room with Morgause while Cenred was extracting (or rather,  _trying_  and  _failing_  pathetically to extract) information from Arthur by torturing Merlin. She had almost wished she could have been there to see it, though, because her hatred of Merlin at the moment knew no bounds. Since that hadn't been an option, she had contented herself with spending time with her sister and waiting. When Morgause had left and then reappeared, this time with a scowl – apparently Arthur hadn't talked – that quickly turned into a smirk, Morgana knew that she would get her chance to help their cause again.

It was that time now. She regarded her half-brother with an expression that she hoped looked genuinely scared. He was chained to the wall, his face a mix of desperation, anger, and relief at seeing her safe. A small bit of guilt nudged her heart as she realized how grateful he was that she was unhurt. Did Arthur actually care about her? No, she decided, and he just  _thought_  he did, but if he found out about her magic, he would drop her in an instant, try to kill him because he was as blind as his father.

"Arthur," she breathed, rushing forward to where he was chained, bruised and weary but otherwise in relatively good health, and placing a gently hand on his shoulder. "You're alive! I thought that they'd…" She broke off, willing herself to cry. She had pretty much mastered getting her tear ducts to work at will, although right now it was proving difficult to cry on cue. There was just so much going on right now, so many emotions and decisions to make, so much ecstasy at knowing Merlin and Arthur and Uther would soon get exactly what they deserved…

Her eyes must have been wet enough, her acting convincing, because Arthur leaned toward as far as his chains would allow and said earnestly, "Don't cry, Morgana. We'll figure out a way out of this." He frowned. "Have they hurt you?"

For a moment, Morgana considered lying to him, telling him that they  _had_  hurt her, just to see what his reaction might be. Would he be angry? Resigned? Scared? Would he cry? Would he curse, threaten to kill the pigs that did this? She decided against it, however, because she wasn't here to play with his emotions. Well, strictly speaking, that wasn't true – she  _was_  here to mess with his mind and feelings, but for an entirely different reason, for a bigger cause. She  _had_  to get him to talk so that Cenred wouldn't need a reason to keep him around anymore. Even though she still felt a bit uncomfortable with the idea of wanting a man she had grown up with, that she had once loved like the brother she had discovered he was, dead, she knew it was the only way she would be next in line for the throne. When she was queen, she would pave the way for magic users to come back, something the  _traitor_  hadn't tried to do in the slightest.

"N-no," she said, making her voice waver just the right amount. "B-but I asked them to let me talk to you, to try and convince you, b-because I just can't t-take it anymore!"

Arthur's brow furrowed and his eyes flashed. "I thought you said they didn't hurt you."

"They haven't – but they're h-hurting M-Merlin," she stammered, trying to keep the twisted excitement out of her voice.

Arthur blanched. "You know about that?"

"Yes." She took a deep breath. "Arthur, you  _have_  to tell Cenred what he wants to know! You can't allow Merlin to suffer this anymore! He's going to  _die_ , Arthur, and I know you want to protect your people, but you are  _killing_  him with your silence! I know you care about him and that he's your friend! You can't just let this happen!"

It was a  _low_  blow and she knew it, but she found she didn't really care – not even when her half-brother's face crumpled and he finally lost the flimsy grip he had on his emotions. "Don't you think I know that, Morgana?" he hissed, and Morgana was a bit shocked to see a tear slide down his cheek. "And it's  _killing_  me. But… but I can't just give up Camelot's secrets and battle strategies. I can't betray my people, my kingdom, or my king, even for Merlin." His voice was shaking and Morgana almost felt sorry for him then. Almost.

"Arthur," she pressed, "Cenred's not going to stop until he has leeched every bit of information he wants from you! He will slice Merlin to ribbons if you don't talk!"

Arthur let out a harsh, guttural laugh that held absolutely no humor in it. "Thank you for that, Morgana. I _really_  needed that right now." He looked like he was about to start sobbing. "I just… I  _can't_. Trust me, I  _wish_ it was me instead of Merlin being tortured, Morgana. I can't  _stand_  to watch him like this… it's just… I…" He broke off.

Morgana had one more card to play. "Arthur, if you just tell Cenred what he wants to know, maybe he'll let Merlin go. You would also be ensuring his freedom, making amends for what has happened to him." Only Morgana knew that the only way Merlin was going to leave the Castle of Fyrien after Cenred was done with him was with Morgause, although she wasn't about to say it.

"Morgana, please, just –  _stop_." Arthur's voice was tight, his eyes clenched shut.

"Stop what?" she snapped, getting irritated with Arthur's bullheadedness.

"Stop… tempting me to betray Camelot. You don't know how badly I want to tell him everything, Morgana. But I can't."

"I'm sorry," Morgana said shortly. "I was just trying to help my  _friend_. I thought you'd want to do the same."

Arthur winced, turned his head to the side, and murmured, "You know I can't sacrifice the kingdom for one man, Morgana. I know you're friends with Merlin but you can't let it get in the way of your feelings."

 _You're not trying to convince me,_  Morgana thought, mentally sneering though on the outside she was looking at Arthur sympathetically.  _You're trying to convince_ yourself.

"I'm sorry," she said, not wanting to get  _too_  out of character. Arthur couldn't know of her changed loyalties, just in case their plans went wrong and he somehow managed to make it out alive. "That was uncalled for."

Arthur sighed, looking much older than he was in his weary blue eyes, and said, "Don't be. You were just trying to help Merlin and that means more than you'll ever know." Suddenly a pleading look appeared on his face and he asked, "But you  _do_  understand why I can't talk, right?"

Morgana shrugged half-heartedly. "Yes," she replied shortly, "but it doesn't mean I have to approve."

She was trying to manipulate him like she had done so many times in the past – to convince Arthur to help kill the Afanc, to go after the cure for Merlin when Uther told him not to, to go after Guinevere when she was being held ransom… But this time, Arthur was proving to be much more difficult to control. Despite his friendship with Merlin, he knew the difference between right and wrong and what he had to do.

She turned her back and walked to the cell door, knocking to let her "guards" know that she was done with her conversation. As they took her away, leaving Arthur alone with his thoughts and doubts and fears, she tried not to get frustrated because of her lack of success. After all, who knew? She hadn't convinced him to give in right away, but after seeing Merlin get hurt more and letting her words sink in a bit, maybe, just maybe, that stubborn prince would realize it would be  _so_  much more beneficial to talk. Then, she thought, smirking as she yanked her arms from the guards grip and stalked toward the throne room to meet with Morgause again, they could kill Arthur and  _finally_  be rid of him, clearing her way to being next in line.

* * *

Merlin was back in the cell with Arthur again, wrists still in chains, but this time, he wasn't strung from the ceiling. He was tied to a chair. He was bound with rope – normal rope, not enchanted or enhanced or strengthened in any way – but he still couldn't break it. The manacles on his wrists confined his magic and he couldn't do anything.

His shirt was still gone, his chest and stomach colored with red and black and blue like a grotesque, abstract painting. Every breath he took stung like fire, especially now that his torso was securely tied to the chair with rope, the scratchy material digging mercilessly into his marred flesh. His shoulder, the one that had been stabbed and then the knife twisted, was throbbing but had actually been bound with crude bandages by a few guards when it became clear that the bleeding wasn't going to stop anytime soon… and they needed him alive.

He coughed feebly, trying to clear his itching throat, and his skin felt hot and clammy at the same time. He knew that when they had thrown him into the cell with Elyan a few hours prior, he had gotten a fair amount of dirt in his wounds due to the dirty cell floor he had landed bare-chested on. He prayed he wasn't getting some kind of infection but he knew the chances of not getting one, especially without proper medical care, were slim.

Arthur was still chained to the wall, watching warily as Cenred began to advance on the servant once again. When Merlin had first been dragged back into the cell, the prince had looked at Merlin and the pure despair and turmoil in Arthur's eyes had taken him aback and scared him more than he cared to remember. It was like all hope was lost, that Arthur had realized this, and was actually considering.

"Arthur," Merlin had croaked out as he was being tied to the chair.

Arthur had found his gaze and locked on it. "Merlin," he whispered, eyes looking his servant over for any additional injury, wincing every time he spotted a particularly brutal looking cut. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Merlin had said, eyes welling with tears. "Camelot—" he had broken off, coughing, "—is more important."

Arthur hadn't looked convinced and that made Merlin nervous. It wasn't like the boy  _wanted_  to be tortured – heavens, no, he actually wanted to be  _anywhere_ but here right now. He'd even enjoy being on a hunt and being constantly badgered by Arthur for scaring away the prey. He'd give just about anything to be cleaning Gaius's leach tank, mucking the stables, or being used as target practice. No, he didn't want to be going through this and he did  _not_  want Arthur to be forced to watch, to be put in that kind of turmoil, in such a terrible position, but with his magic confined and physically so weak, he knew he didn't have much of a choice in the matter. And Arthur  _couldn't_  tell Cenred anything, it would risk _everything_  – Camelot, Arthur's future, Albion, their destiny… although unless they miraculously found a way out of this – and soon – Merlin couldn't help but think that all that was pretty much screwed anyway. But he couldn't lose hope.

Now Cenred reached him and this time no knife was in sight. Merlin knew better than to be relieved, though, because whatever Cenred had up his sleeve this time was probably just as bad, if not worse, than what he could do – and had already done – with a knife. He was right.

Cenred stalked forward, the bloodlust in his eyes making him look almost demonic. "Arthur," Merlin began, "it's not your fault, don't worry, you can't—"

He was cut off as one of his arms was cut free from the ropes. Cenred nodded at one of his guards, who came forward and grasped Merlin's wrist with one beefy hand, and with the other hand he grabbed Merlin's thin arm right above the elbow. Merlin, a bit dazed, wasn't sure what was going on or why Arthur suddenly looked so murderous. The prince was yelling something. Cenred asked a question, Arthur yelled some more, and Merlin, finally realizing what was about to happen, shook his head minutely in Arthur's direction and whispered, "Don't." Arthur fell silent, Cenred nodded at the man holding Merlin's arm, and the man moved faster than a cobra as he did what his master ordered.

There was a terrible snapping sound and terrible pain ripped through Merlin's arm, nearly causing him to be sick. The guard let go even as Merlin screamed, the pain overwhelming all of his senses. His arm flopped uselessly onto the arm of the chair, pain shooting through every nerve, the bone set at an angle that nearly made Merlin, who had just managed to wrest control over his stomach back, throw up once more.

"You  _bastard!_ " Arthur spat, straining against his chains.

Merlin simply focused on not passing out, because he could sense that Arthur was dangerously close to breaking, and if he fainted from the pain, there was no way he could keep Arthur from telling Cenred anything. And Arthur couldn't put Camelot, his kingdom, his future and people, Albion, their destiny, in Cenred's hands.

Merlin only hoped that Arthur's resolve wouldn't slip any further than it already had because if he talked, Camelot would go down along with them, and that was something that simply  _couldn't_  happen.


	14. Of Desperation and Harebrained Schemes

It had been bad enough to watch Merlin being strung up from the ceiling, being cut mercilessly by Cenred and his razor-sharp knife, but the moment that the king had his guard grip Merlin's arm in his beefy hands, he  _knew_ that Merlin's torment had only begun.  _No,_  his mind had screamed as he watched the beefy man prepare to break Merlin's arm, his face impassive as if he were just about to do something mundane like cook dinner rather than snapping an innocent boy's bone.

 _This_ cannot _be happening!_  But it  _was_  happening and it  _had_ happened and now Arthur was left alone with the product of his silence and his guilt was eating him alive. How could this have happened? This nightmare he was immersed in was something he would have  _never_  believed possible. Merlin seemed to make it out of nearly every grim situation with hardly a scratch on him and that goofy half-smile still plastered on his face. He wasn't supposed to be bloody and broken, tied to a chair and broken arm grotesquely dangling, limp and already swollen. Arthur was sick just looking at it, but he forced himself to look regardless. He had tried to turn his head, turn a blind eye to Merlin's torment before to try and strengthen his resolve to be silent, but no more. He had to face up to what he had done.

When he met Merlin's agony-laced eyes, as they were left alone for the first time since King Cenred had first started the questioning, Arthur fully expected to see hatred, blame, confusion, anger – after all, it  _was_  Arthur that had essentially done this to him. Even though the prince hadn't physically cut his chest with a knife or broken his arm with his own two hands, his silence had. He wouldn't blame the servant in the slightest if he now despised Arthur for causing him to have to go through this torture. What he didn't expect to see was understanding, sympathy, and maybe even a touch of guilt. Arthur didn't understand, but he wasn't sure he liked the way Merlin was regarding him, like a friend instead of the enemy.

"Arthur," Merlin choked out, a couple of salty tears inching down his bruised, dirty cheeks. His face was ashen, stark white from pain and shock. Arthur couldn't imagine what Merlin was going through right now, especially when he wasn't a hardened soldier or trained knight. He hadn't been taught how to cope with torture, because torture was something that normally didn't happen to poor, innocent peasants – and it  _wouldn't_ have happened to  _this_  poor, innocent peasant if Arthur hadn't let him become so close to him, a friend. If he had guarded his heart a little more, hadn't let a mere servant past his defenses and become his best friend, the closest thing to a  _brother_  that he had ever known, then Merlin wouldn't be being used as leverage to get Arthur to talk.

 _But someone else would be in his place,_  Arthur's mind reminded him.  _Gwen… Morgana…_

"Why aren't you angry with me?" Arthur interrupted, his gaze boring into Merlin's unfocused eyes. Whatever Merlin was going to say could wait. Arthur  _had_  to know because he was at the point where he would feel better if Merlin were mad at him. "Why don't—" his voice faltered, "—why don't you hate me?"

Merlin looked confused behind his pain. Arthur forced himself to look at Merlin's face, his eyes – not his blood-soaked chest or broken arm. If he got one more look at the damage done to the servant, he might not be able to get through this conversation. The damage that  _Arthur_  had done to him, if only by default. "W-why would I b-b-be angry at you?" Merlin asked, his voice weak and broken.

"Because  _I_  did this!" Arthur snapped, trying his best not to yell. Merlin might not realize that the prince's anger was directed at himself, not his servant. The emotions had just welled up inside of him, the guilt and anger and fear mixing together to make the tears form and try to make their way past his defenses. "It's  _my_ fault – I'm the one who's refusing to talk, it's  _me!_ "

Merlin shook his head, wincing. His eyes were dull, the normal lighthearted and almost confident gleam having been flushed out by the torture. "N-no," he stuttered, and Arthur had to strain to hear him. "Y-you need t-to worry ab-bout Camelot. M-more import-tant. Cenred… h-his f-fault."

"No!" Arthur growled, the shame threatening to overtake him. He had never felt this  _angry_ , this self-destructive.  _Why_  wasn't Merlin blaming him? "I don't  _want_  to blame anyone else, I want  _you_ to blame  _me!_ "

"You're m-making no sense," Merlin commented, almost grinning. "'Course, that's n-nothing n-new, though."

Arthur didn't chuckle weakly at the jab. He didn't shoot back an insult or threaten Merlin with the stocks – honestly, he couldn't have even if he'd wanted to now, the way Merlin was restrained and hurting. Instead, he said, "Merlin, I'm serious."

"So am I," Merlin said, trying to sit up straighter and clenching his teeth when his beaten body refused to cooperate. The guilt flared up in Arthur again. How could he let this happen, especially to Merlin? Merlin was the kindest, most loyal and caring man and Arthur was  _killing_  him. As he watched his servant – friend – struggle for breath, trying to stay conscious through the new waves of pain, he couldn't help but remember Morgana's words. She seemed to think that Arthur was abandoning Merlin. He was just trying to think of his kingdom, but what if Morgana was right? What if, in this case, he needed to do what was best for Merlin? Could he  _really_  just sit here and watch Merlin die a slow, agonizingly painful death?

No.

"Merlin," Arthur said, trying to convince himself that the choice he was making was the right one. "You're not going to have to go through this anymore. I'll – I'll talk."

Merlin's eyes widened and miraculously, he managed to sit up straighter without too much of a hassle. "No," he said firmly, and this time, his voice didn't shake. "No, I've put  _way_ too much effort into  _you_  and  _Camelot_ for you to ruin everything now!" A single tear escaped and ran down his face.

"Merlin,  _what_  are you talking about?" Arthur asked, genuinely confused.

"Arthur, you should know something," Merlin said, his voice wavering slightly. Arthur could tell that it was taking all of Merlin's willpower to keep his voice from shaking uncontrollably. The pain, coupled with whatever battle was obviously going on in Merlin's head right now, was getting the best of the servant's emotions. He was shaking now, from stress, pain, or fever, Arthur didn't know – although he  _did_  know that the jerking of Merlin's body couldn't be helping his broken arm.

"Merlin,  _calm down_." Arthur's order was more of a pleading request and had no effect whatsoever on Merlin.

"Don't betray Camelot, not for me," Merlin went on, eyes wide and filled with tears. "I've l-lied to you all this t-time. I'm… Arthur, I'm…"

"What?" Arthur asked,  _very_ close to panicking. Merlin was losing his mind, that had to be it. "You're  _what_?"

"I'm a warlock," Merlin finally admitted, then his body jerked one last time and he promptly passed out.

* * *

Elyan was surprised that they hadn't re-chained him to the wall when they had come to take Merlin again. Surprised, but definitely not disappointed. Now that he had the freedom to move around the cell, he wasn't going to just sit around. He glared at the manacles and long chain still keeping his wrists attached. They might have proved to be a problem in his escape attempt, but luckily, he was the son of a blacksmith. A flare of regret shot up as he thought about how he hadn't been there for Gwen  _or_  their father when he was killed. He shoved it away. There would be time for grieving the loss of his father and making amends with his sister later. Right now, he had to keep his mind on one objective only – escape.

He knew that he would be a fool to think that King Cenred or the witch, Morgause, would release him once they had what they wanted from Merlin and the prince. They probably only kept him around in case their current plan didn't work and they needed to try and lure Guinevere back to this hellhole – and that was  _not_ something that Elyan was about to let happen. As terrible as it was to see his sister's rescuer go through this torment, it would  _kill_  him if they decided to torture Gwen.

No, he was going to escape – and save Merlin's life, hopefully the Prince of Camelot's as well, while he was at it. Of course, these were rather lofty aspirations, especially with his current position – stuck in a cell with chains on his wrists – but he wasn't going to leave without Merlin. He had only known the man for less than two days, yet Merlin had his complete trust and loyalty. The man had risked everything to save Guinevere, his friend, Elyan's sister, and he was now being tortured in her place – because if he hadn't stepped up to save her, it probably  _would_  have been Gwen, as much as Elyan detested thinking that way.

He frowned as he fingered the chains, noisy, but not really detrimental to the crude escape plan he'd fashioned. Of course, this all would depend on how well armed the next person to enter the cell was and whether they were entrusted with important things, like keys to shackles and cells, and whether or not they 'fit' the part in the plan that Elyan was planning on using them for.

Yes, there were a lot of unpredictable factors involved in his harebrained escape plot (that would be, he figured, why it was a  _harebrained_  scheme), but it was better than sitting around in this stupid cell doing nothing but rotting and worrying. He was going to escape, he was going to save Merlin, hopefully the prince, too, or he was going to  _die_  trying.

And, quite frankly, Elyan didn't plan on dying at all.

 


	15. Magic

Arthur couldn't seem to think past his shock. Merlin's words kept repeating in his mind.  _I'm a warlock… a warlock… WARLOCK!_  Arthur shook his head, wincing as the back of his head scraped against the stone dungeon wall as he did so. He had to force himself out of this mind-numbing shock. Merlin had just passed out, for heaven's sake.  _But if he's a sorcerer,_  a nasty voice in his mind said,  _then why should you care if he passes out, or even lives or dies? He's a liar!_

Arthur ground his teeth together. No way. There had to be some other explanation to Merlin's confession. Arthur had been a witness to the torment King Cenred and his men had put the young man through – it was highly possible that he was delirious from the pain. Arthur had seen stronger men crack under torture than Merlin; it was highly probable that it was just the pain speaking. Arthur wasn't sure if this theory relieved him or worried him. Sure, it would make things a heck of a lot easier if Merlin wasn't in his right mind and really _wasn't_ a sorcerer, but it would also mean that he was in worse shape than Arthur had originally thought.

Of course, the idiot could still be thinking clearly – what if he just  _said_  that so that Arthur wouldn't talk? Merlin was loyal – or so Arthur thought, although with the new "warlock" spectrum, he wasn't sure what was true anymore – and had made it clear that he didn't want his master to give in to Cenred's demands. He'd said something about having put too much into Arthur and Camelot for him to betray it, although at this point, talking didn't seem to be so much of  _betraying_ Camelot, but  _saving_  his friend. Arthur still wasn't sure what Merlin had meant by that comment, other than the obvious "you'd better not tell Cenred a damned thing" implied by his words. Arthur assumed that Merlin could have just been being his obnoxiously loyal self and was trying to turn Arthur against him so that he wouldn't answer Cenred's questions.

The third alternative was something that Arthur just didn't want to face. What if…  _what if_  Merlin was actually telling the  _truth_? What if he did have magic? What would that mean? Surely Merlin wasn't an evil sorcerer bent on Arthur and his father's death, the destruction of Camelot, and the end of all things good in the world. That just didn't make sense when coupled with the Merlin Arthur had known for three years now.

And for goodness' sake, Merlin was with him the majority of the time, had saved Arthur  _and_  Uther's lives, and stood by Arthur even when all odds were against them. Before Merlin's revelation, hadn't Arthur just been reflecting on how trustworthy and loyal of a friend Merlin truly was? If Merlin was a warlock, was Arthur really supposed to completely throw away his admiration for his servant's selflessness and compassion and replace the image with deceit and hatred?

No, that just didn't fit Merlin. It didn't work. Even if by some crazy twist of fate Merlin  _did_  have magic, Arthur wasn't sure he could see Merlin using it for evil.  _But magic_  is _evil_ , the little voice reminded him.  _Merlin is evil…_

No, no, no. That wasn't right. The idea of Merlin being evil was too strange, laughable even.

Arthur felt his stomach swirl uncomfortably as he looked to where Merlin's head was lying awkwardly forward onto his bare, blood-soaked chest. He didn't know if Merlin was telling the truth or not, whether he was in his right mind, or what his motives were for telling Arthur he used magic, but right now, Arthur realized, it didn't really matter. Magic or not, Merlin was more loyal than anyone Arthur had ever met. He had just been tortured and yet he still chose to stand by Arthur, the one who was, by default, causing all of his suffering. Still, he insisted that Camelot was more important. How could  _that_  be evil?

"Merlin?" Arthur said softly, his voice hesitant. "Merlin, you alright?"

Merlin didn't respond, other than to shift slightly, groan, and wince. Arthur sighed and tried not to think about the decisions he'd have to make and turmoil he'd have to face if Merlin  _did_  have magic.

As Arthur watched the shallow in and out of Merlin's chest as he breathed, he felt a bout of total exhaustion overcome him and he realized blearily that he hadn't been given the chance to sleep in over twenty-four hours. Slowly his thoughts and worries began to melt together and his mind swam with images of Merlin and magic as his weary body slumped in his chains and finally succumbed to uneasy slumber.

* * *

The plan was simple. Hide behind the door when it was opened. While the guard or whoever had been sent this time – hopefully not the king or the witch, though, because Elyan wasn't sure that he was up to taking either one of them on right now – tried to get their bearings and find out where the prisoner had gotten off to, slip out from behind the door, throw the chains linking the shackles around his wrists over the guard's head as quietly as possible and  _squeeze_ , preferably hard enough so the victim couldn't call for help. Once said victim is out of air and collapses, take the keys off of them, unlock the shackles, steal their weapon and clothes (provided, of course, they were close enough to Elyan's size), pose as a guard, find the cell where Merlin and the prince are being held, and break them out… somehow.

That last part of the plan, a part that Elyan had taken to calling in his head "Phase Two," hadn't quite been perfected yet. If he were completely honest with himself, it hadn't really even been created yet, other than the rough idea of "get in, get Merlin, get out". He was sure he'd think of something when the time came, though. Elyan prided himself on being a rather resourceful person, even though he hadn't been using his brain a lot in the past few years.

Another twinge of guilt bothered at him as he was reminded, once again, how much trouble he'd been for his family these past several years. Always getting into mischief, fights, trying to find his place in the world but ostracizing himself from it at the same time, so much so that he had hidden away in a sleazy inn when news of his father's death reached him, rather than go and try to comfort his sister. Once again, Elyan shoved the guilt aside. There would be time enough for remorse later – if, that is, they got out of this alive.

Now that his plan – Phase One, at the very least – was concocted, Elyan now had to wait for his golden opportunity. Over the course of the time he'd been a prisoner here, he had been brought a small amount of food and water twice a day, and usually by a mean-looking guard, or a bored-looking guard, and once or twice, even a drunk-looking guard. Elyan hoped that it would be the latter, because a drunk man would probably be a bit easier to outwit.

He was right about the food – a guard he hadn't met before but still hated on sight, with his beady black eyes, slightly drunken tilt to his walk, and milk-curdling sneer, unlocked the door and walked in with a plate of food. He glanced at the wall, looking confused as he realized the prisoner wasn't chained to it anymore. He dropped the food and drink, scratching his chin and glancing up at the grate in the ceiling of the cell, as if expecting to see the prisoner clinging onto it, trying to make an escape. Elyan, crouched behind the door, had to smother a chuckle. What kind of idiot would try to jump the enemy from the ceiling, anyway? That would have to be one of the most ridiculous escape plans  _ever_. Elyan mentally shook himself for letting himself get distracted by his amusing fantasies.

Before the guard could turn around, Elyan had snuck out of the corner by the door and was slowly, silently, maneuvering the chains so he could throw them over the man's head when the time was right. Elyan, being the son of a blacksmith, was no stranger to metal, whether it be in the form of a sword, a horse shoe, or chains, and didn't have much of a problem moving silently with them. Right before the guard could turn around to look behind him, Elyan flung the chains around the man's neck and squeezed as hard as he could.

The man didn't even have time to yelp in surprise as his airway was completely cut off. He made a few gurgling sounds and twitched his arms weakly in an attempt to break free. Elyan tightened his grip, not allowing the panicked pulls for breath sway his decision to knock this man out. Knock out, not kill – he quickly reassured himself that he wasn't a cold-blooded killer, although if he had Cenred or his blonde witch in his sights, Elyan figured he might change his tune a bit.

Finally, after several tense, airless moments, the guard lost the battle with consciousness and slumped, face red and lips tinged a light gray, to the floor. Elyan quickly shut the cell door the rest of the way before he looked at the man's belt, hoping to see a set of keys – ah ha! Grinning, Gwen's brother slipped the massive key ring off the guard's belt and almost instantly found the key for his manacles – he'd made more than his fair share of keys in his young lifetime and could easily pick out what keys went where. The key slid into the lock and he turned it with an audible  _click_.

Free at last, Elyan wasted no time in swapping clothes with the man, making sure to cover his head and face with the large cloak he'd been wearing. He also gagged him with a strip of cloth off the hem of the cloak, just in case he woke up, but judging by the chain-shaped, red indentions on the skin of his throat and the pasty color to his skin, the man wasn't going to rejoin the land of the conscious any time soon. After he was dressed in the guard's clothes, Elyan chained the man, now dressed as the prisoner, to the wall, and pulled the hood of the guard's cloak over his head, praying that it would hide his face well enough. Grabbing the rusty sword and hooking it, in its scabbard, to the 'borrowed' belt, along with the ring of keys, Elyan scooted out of the cell and closed the door behind him.

Almost as soon as he was out, a voice, so terribly familiar, so hated, rang out. "Ah. You there. Um, whoever the hell you are. What were you doing in the prisoner's cell?"

It was the king, his beautiful but evil friend beside him. Elyan deepened his voice in an attempt to disguise it, marveling at how little Cenred knew or cared about his own men and the dismissive, flippant way he acknowledged them. Of course, in this case, Cenred's callousness would prove to be an asset because if he didn't even know his own guards, it would be unlikely he'd be keen enough to spot an imposter, although the witch… Elyan would have to watch his step around her. She didn't seem like the type of woman that could be fooled easily.

"Feeding the prisoner. Sire," Elyan tagged on the end, just in case.

Cenred snorted. "That useless piece of dung?" Elyan bristled but wisely didn't show his disapproval of Cenred's rather unflattering description of him. "Don't bother. I think I've got our dear prince inches from talking, so we won't be needing him very much longer."

"Oh," said the disguised Elyan. "That's… good."

"What are you standing around for?" the woman spoke up, her voice harsh and eyes sterner and more intense than any Elyan had ever seen. "Go make yourself useful, go get the prince and his little wizard ready for Cenred's next questioning session. He'll be along shortly… it won't be long now." She gazed into space before snapping. "Go!"

Dipping his head, Elyan scampered off, mind buzzing.  _Little wizard…_

It all made sense now – why Gwen had been used against Merlin, the sacrifice he had made by giving himself up, the strange etchings on the manacles that bound him… Merlin had  _magic_.

Elyan found he didn't care. Merlin had been a true friend to him, and more importantly, he had remained loyal to Guinevere and saved her life. He wasn't about to let a little detail like  _magic_  get in the way of his rescue. In fact, he realized, if he could just get those shackles off Merlin, Phase Two of his plan might go a  _whole_  lot smoother. With a wizard on their side…

He grinned a tiny, but slightly hopeful, smile as he jogged along the corridor in the direction the witch had indicated. He'd find the cell soon enough and then let Merlin out. After that, with his magic returned, things should go much more smoothly and Phase Two of Elyan's master escape plan would fall into place.

Hopefully.

 


	16. Phase Two

Arthur woke to the sound of someone yelling. Who, he wondered, was making this much of a racket this early in the morning? He shifted slightly, attempting to get more comfortable in what he assumed was his bed, but _much_  less comfortable than he ever remembered it being. That was when he realized that something was very, very wrong. For one, he was  _sore_ , his muscles cramping and joints protesting every attempted moving. And, even more disturbing, he couldn't move more than an inch in any direction. An ominous  _clank_  rang out every time he tried to move his stinging wrists.

All at once, everything came back to him. Gwen and Merlin going missing, the former returning with the terrifying news that Merlin was a hostage of King Cenred, the quest to save him ending badly, Cenred's questioning, Merlin's startling revelation… Oh, no.  _Merlin._ It must have been  _him_  who was screaming before…

Now the screams had gone silent, which, when he thought about it, was probably even worse than the yelling because it meant that something – be it one of Cenred's men, unconsciousness, or even  _death_  – had  _forced_ Merlin to be quiet. Terrified for his servant, Arthur's eyes snapped open and locked onto the scene in front of him.

Merlin was still tied to the chair by his ankles and one arm, the broken one hanging limply at his side. A dark-skinned guard with a thin face, hard eyes, and mouth set in a determined line, was crouching beside him, a gloved hand covering Merlin's mouth. The boy's eyes were wide, terrified, but didn't seem to take anything in. "Hey!" Arthur snapped at the newcomer. "Leave. Him. Alone!"

The guard ignored him, instead focusing his attention on Merlin, speaking in a low, soothing voice that was almost melodic in quality and seemed vaguely familiar to the prince, although he couldn't say why. Moving forward as much as the chains would allow, Arthur stared at the dark-skinned man. "What are you doing?"

Before the man could answer, recognition jumped back into Merlin's eyes and he let out a muffled yell behind his captor's hand. His pain-filled, exhausted eyes traveled slowly up to meet the face of the person covering his mouth and he let out a muffled gasp, something akin to relief joining the fear and agony in his expression. Smiling grimly, the guard let go of Merlin's mouth and Arthur looked on in utter confusion.

"El-Elyan?" Merlin slurred. "What…?"

"I escaped," the guard replied shortly and Arthur realized that this man wasn't actually one of Cenred's men after all, but a prisoner who had manage to get away somehow.

"Who are you?" the prince demanded in a hushed tone, not wanting to get the attention of any  _real_  guards and risk whatever escape plan this was.

"Prince Arthur?" the man, Elyan, Merlin had said, asked. Arthur gave a quick, curt nod. "My name is Elyan. Guinevere is my sister."

Arthur gaped.  _Now_ he knew why Elyan's voice and appearance seemed so familiar – now that he knew the man's identity, the family resemblance was uncanny. He didn't have to think long at all to figure out what Gwen's brother was doing here. As far as Arthur could discern, Elyan had been the original bait to get Gwen to bring Arthur to the Castle of Fyrien. When Merlin had come into the picture, though, and they realized how far the prince would go for the boy, he had taken Elyan's place. Arthur realized that the only reason Elyan was still alive was probably in case something went wrong with the use of Merlin against Arthur – as in Merlin _dying_  – and they needed something to lure Gwen back to the castle to be used as leverage in his stead. The idea made Arthur ill.

"Oh," Arthur said rather lamely. "I see."

"We have to get you out of here." He was talking to both prince and master, but Elyan was looking at Merlin. "We can explain and exchange stories later." He looked down and got a good look at Merlin, who was about to slip into unconsciousness again. He gritted his teeth upon seeing Merlin's arm. "Bloody hell," Elyan whispered. "What kind of monsters are these people?"

Arthur didn't answer. He was too busy fuming.

Elyan quickly set to work, using the sword he'd stolen from the guard he'd attacked to slice through Merlin's bonds, being careful of his broken arm and sliced chest. Then he started to go through the keys he had swiped, eyeing each one and comparing it against the lock with an expert eye. It only took a couple of minutes to find the right one but to Arthur, it was  _far_  too long. His thoughts were fuzzy and confusing, his mind going a million miles a minute and in no particular direction.

 _Merlin's hurt… Warlock… Hurry, they could be waiting outside… Have to escape… His_ arm _… I'm going to kill Cenred… Warlock… Hurry! We don't have much time..._

Finally, thankfully, Elyan inserted the key into the lock and turned it, causing it to make a resounding  _click_  and the shackles sprung open. Arthur breathed a sigh of relief. "Quick, unchain me," Arthur ordered, not taking his eyes off the prone Merlin slumped, freed at last, in the straight backed chair. "They could be back any minute."

Elyan nodded, his slight hesitation in moving across the cell to Arthur's side showing his reluctance to leave Merlin, which warmed Arthur's heart. Obviously, Merlin had just met Gwen's brother while being a captive here and yet the man was already willing to risk his life for the servant's. Arthur wondered briefly what it was like, to be able to touch hearts and make friends so easily. Merlin had to be the kindest, friendliest person the prince knew and certainly made an impact on everyone he met. While this reflection made Arthur proud of Merlin and what a good man he was, it also made his anger flare red-hot again, thinking of all Cenred's men had done to this man who could touch your life in an instant just with a goofy grin or a helping hand.

There was no way in hell that Merlin was evil.

The thought came out of nowhere but Arthur instantly recognized it as the truth and he felt his nerves calm down about Merlin's admonition – whether it was true or not, he had the peace of mind to know that Merlin wasn't someone he should distrust, even if the prospect of him having lied for three years was not one that Arthur enjoyed.

He was jerked from his thoughts as Elyan worked his blacksmith magic with the locks again and the prince's manacles opened. He was free.

Arthur stood on shaky legs before darting over as fast as his trembling legs could take him. Dropping to his knees at Merlin's side, Arthur got the first close look at the servant since Cenred had started the questioning. Merlin was deathly pale and his torso, which radiated a feverish heat, looked like a pasty white piece of parchment having been soaked in red ink. His ribs stuck out behind the skin, his face was bruised, and his forehead burned with fever. His arm was in such a grotesque position that Arthur found it unsettled his strong stomach to look at it for very long. And Merlin was out cold, something that distressed both Elyan and Arthur.

"No, no, no," Elyan muttered, one hand on Merlin's wrist, checking his pulse. "This wasn't supposed to happen this way – he  _needs_  to wake up, to help us…"

Arthur felt a stirring realization begin to curl around his mind but he held it back. Did Elyan believe that Merlin had magic? Had he been counting on  _Merlin_  to save them? Arthur flat-out ignored the little, petty, and wholly misplaced stab of jealousy that he felt at the possibility that Merlin  _did_  have magic and had told Elyan, an almost complete stranger, before Arthur, his prince and friend. Now wasn't the time to be concerned with these things. "What are you talking about, Elyan?" he asked, voice short with unbridled impatience. They didn't need to be sitting here, they needed to be getting out of here, fighting, doing  _something!_

"There goes Phase Two," Elyan went on forlornly, and Arthur had no idea what he was talking about.

He didn't have time to ask, even if he had been inclined to, for the next second, the door to the cell flew open and there stood none other than King Cenred, a livid scowl on his scruffy face, flanked by none other than… the witch, Morgause. Arthur felt any hope leave him in an instant.

He reached for his sword, realized it wasn't there, and groaned softly before adopting a fighting stance nonetheless and joining Gwen's brother in standing before and defending the unconscious, helpless Merlin.


	17. Dramatic Reveal Doesn't Meet Expectations

"Prince Arthur," Morgause said, her voice dripping with malice. "It's an honor to see you again."

Arthur's mind was whirring. "What?" he asked, eyes flickering between the unconscious Merlin and the blonde witch. "What are  _you_  doing here?"

Morgause smirked. "I've been here the whole time, Arthur," Morgause said silkily, taking a predatory step toward the prince of Camelot. "I'm surprised you hadn't figured it out yet, actually. Surely you didn't think King Cenred was cunning enough to come up with this plan to lure you in on his own, now did you?"

The king glanced in the woman's direction, a slightly wounded expression on his face. "I'm sure I would've thought of something," he almost pouted.

Arthur snorted, having known all along that the man was a spineless coward who let others do his dirty work. He should have realized, however, that he was working for another person, doing  _their_  – or rather,  _her_  – dirty work. "What do you want with me?" he asked the witch. "You have  _magic,_  surely you could find out all you needed to know about Camelot through other means. Why this?" He gestured in the direction of Merlin.

Morgause glowered at the prince and then turned her deadly gaze onto the still form of the servant slumped in the chair behind Arthur and Elyan. "I have my reasons," she said darkly. She smiled slightly, but it was terrifying. "So tell me, Arthur Pendragon, how  _are_  you enjoying the entertainment King Cenred and his men have been providing for you?"

Arthur didn't respond, his ears buzzing and vision going red. How could she speak so casually, so callously, about the torment Merlin had been through? How could she act like it was all a joke, like whether Merlin lived or died couldn't be more irrelevant? How could she have ordered this to have happened in the first place? Had she no conscience, no soul?

No, Arthur decided, his mind replaying the moment when Merlin's arm had been snapped brutally by one of Cenred's men – something, he now knew, had been done because Morgause had allowed it, had  _wanted_  it to happen. He had never hated anyone as much as the witch in that moment.

Morgause turned her attention to Gwen's brother. "Ah, our young  _hero._  Tell me, boy, did you  _really_ think you could escape from  _me_?"

Elyan drew himself up taller, squared his shoulders, and with a brave determination said, "I had to  _try_."

Morgause sniffed disdainfully. "Well," she said, "you've failed. And now, seeing as Prince Arthur continues to be impossibly stubborn and Merlin is of no further use to you, Cenred, I think it time that we dispose of the prince and the noble rescuer once and for all. It's high time for Camelot to find itself a new leader, one that will lead it into a new era of prosperity, where magic will once again be returned to the land." She said this with a gleam in her eye that sent shivers down Arthur's spine.

The prince realized that Morgause hadn't said anything about Merlin. Did that mean she wasn't planning on killing him? That she might let him go? "What about my servant?" Arthur asked. Morgause raised and elegant eyebrow. "Look, do what you want with me… just let them go." Arthur knew that unless a miracle occurred, there was no way he was getting out of the Castle of Fyrien alive. But maybe he would be able to convince Morgause to let Merlin and Elyan go. After all, they were just commoners, of no real use to the witch. Of course, the prince reasoned, that probably was only more motivation for Morgause to kill them.

Morgause laughed, the sound of tinkling bells with a dark edge foreshadowing death and destruction. "Oh no," she crooned, " _Merlin_  is coming with me. I'll have use for him yet."

Arthur's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, didn't you know?" Morgause said airily. "Merlin has magic."

* * *

Merlin felt like he was floating. It wasn't a pleasant feeling, though, like floating normally would be – it felt like he was floating in boiling water and every inch of his skin was being burned and blistered. Every breath he took caused him pain. He wasn't aware of his surroundings, but he still could sense that something was wrong.

A tingle inside of him woke him fractionally, the return of something he'd lost, something very important. For the moment, he couldn't quite place what that something was. He decided not to worry about it now, because the pain was coursing all through his body and his head was now spinning. He realized rather disjointedly that he could hear the slight murmur of voices, sounding far away, as if he were underwater and the speakers were talking to him from above the surface. He didn't recognize the voices instantly although they  _were_  familiar. One of them was achingly wonderful, the voice of someone that Merlin knew he could trust with every fiber of his being. The other was higher, more sinister, and Merlin felt a wave of terror hit him through his unconsciousness as her cold tone cut through his senses.

It came to him – the second speaker, the woman, it was Morgause. And the first, it was Arthur!

Merlin wanted to wake up, to claw his way out of the black abyss he had become entrapped in courtesy of his own body. He needed to be able to come to, to help Arthur, because there was no way the prat would be able to win against Morgause. Sure, if Merlin were to actually say that to the prince, he'd wind up in the stocks because of Arthur's supersized ego, but the it was the truth – Morgause had powerful magic and no amount of Arthur's expert swordsmanship could change that. She'd kill him in an instant.

He couldn't really make out all that was being said, just snatches of a conversation. Every now and then another voice, less familiar to the warlock, would chime in. He heard scattered words through his pain-hazed mind and he was too weak to try and put what he heard together and figure it out. Instead, he just listened to the emotions in the voices and the tones that were being used. Morgause sounded calm and confident, but now and then a fierce anger would creep into her tone. Merlin thought he heard her say his name a few times.

Arthur's voice fluctuated between desperate and furious but no matter what tone he was using, Merlin found comfort in hearing his friend. He knew that he wasn't alone, even in the throes of this horrendous nightmare. Then again, it would be best if he  _were_  alone, really, because Arthur's life was at stake with him being here. Still, Merlin knew he wouldn't be able to stand being stuck with Morgause by himself. He'd go mad with only the revenge-driven blonde witch for company. And it sounded like Arthur was sticking up for him. That made him feel much better, at least emotionally, but physically, he knew he was in terrible shape.

Awareness was beginning to inch toward him, almost in his grasp. He was comprehending a bit more of the sounds and voices around him now, his senses trying to take in everything in overload because his eyes and body seemed to want to be shut down. Unfortunately, it meant even more pain for the servant as his mind became less fuzzy and more coherent.

It was then that he heard it, and it sent a desperate fear spiking into his heart, although he maintained his outward show of being dead to the world because he didn't know what else to do. Morgause was talking again, and this time she said mockingly, "Didn't you know? Merlin has magic."

Magic. Morgause had just told Arthur that Merlin had… magic. Panic began to descend upon him and he felt a familiar tug of power inside of him. Oh, right, he realized,  _that_  was what he had felt return earlier. His  _magic._

Not that it mattered anymore. He and Arthur and Elyan were prisoners of Morgause, he was gravely injured, and Morgause had just revealed Merlin's secret to the prince.

All was lost.

And then –

"I already knew," Arthur's voice came from somewhere in front of Merlin. "And I… I don't care. I trust Merlin. With my life. Magic or no magic, he is the most loyal man I know. He put up with the torment you put him through, went through hell and back, and still remained completely loyal. I trust him, no matter what."

Merlin thought he was going to explode from happiness then and there. Slumped in a chair, chest a bloody mess and arm broken and swollen nearly beyond recognition, he was happier than he'd ever been in his life. Arthur knew about Merlin's magic… and still trusted him. It was more than he'd ever hoped for. Merlin just wondered when it was that he'd found out… but he'd worry about that later. For now, he knew that Arthur trusted him, magic or not.

Reinvigorated by that knowledge, Merlin let the magic fill him to the brim and seconds later his eyes, bright gold, snapped open.

Morgause was going to regret ever trying to use Merlin against Arthur.


	18. Behind these Golden Eyes

Arthur was looking at Morgause, not Merlin, when it happened. Because of this, it took him a few moments to figure out just what was going on, why Morgause was suddenly flying across the dungeon and landing in a heap on the floor several yards away and why King Cenred was backing up slowly, eyes wide and terrified. He blinked, glanced over at Merlin, and instantly understood, heart pounding as the truth was displayed right in front of his eyes – Merlin had magic. There was no denying it now, what with the servant's burning gold eyes and the raw power exploding from him. Arthur swallowed thickly, realizing that Morgause may have just pushed the sorcerer – no, it was still Merlin, right? – a bit too far. What happened when a sorcerer lost control? Arthur wondered if Merlin would attack him, too, and tried to banish the prospect, with only partial success. He didn't want to believe that his friend would attack him, but if his magic reacted violently, who was to say that Arthur, too, wouldn't bear the brunt of the attack?

There was a clink, a rush of heat past his restrained wrists, and suddenly, said wrists were no longer chained. Elyan grinned. "Couldn't've done it better myself." He was referring to the way that the bindings had simply fallen off with a metallic clang and hit the floor. Merlin's eyes were still gold. And Arthur understood. Merlin's magical powers – how odd it was, to equate  _Merlin_  with magic and power – hadn't taken control of him. Merlin was still in complete command of his power. Even after all the torture, the emotional and physical pain, he was still Merlin, and he was doing what Merlin apparently did best – being a loyal, selfless idiot. He was protecting Arthur.

Morgause had gotten to her feet, eyes now gold, too – but unlike Merlin's, her molten gaze was cold, hateful, and deadly. She flung a spell from her hand, the words flowing effortlessly from her mouth, and Arthur saw how easy the magic came to her and was afraid for Merlin. A great bout of lightning-fast bolts of magic flew through the air toward the servant, now standing thanks to his magic, eye color still gold. Without a word, not a whisper of a spell on his lips, the deadly magic heading straight for him dissipated before it could so much as singe him. Arthur watched, stunned, as Morgause's eyes went wide and she paled slightly. Elyan stood by Arthur, brown eyes round. Arthur realized that even though he had planned on freeing Merlin with the hopes that Merlin had magic and would be able to free them, just seeing this display was coming as a bit of a shock. Arthur understood completely.

"Morgause!" Arthur started, his head swiveling around to see the so-called king cowering by the cell door, looking distinctly terrified. His guards were nowhere to be seen; they had probably fled when the commotion started. As for Cenred, Arthur had almost forgotten his presence.

Morgause snapped her head around to look at her cohort, infuriated. " _What?_ " she hissed.

"You never said he was this powerful!" Cenred whimpered. "He'll kill us!"

Elyan snorted. "One can only hope," he murmured, and Arthur didn't laugh because it wouldn't be appropriate at this time. Elyan had a point, though, but it was hard for Arthur to imagine Merlin killing anyone, even Morgause and Cenred, although he wouldn't begrudge the warlock in the slightest if he decided to it sometime soon.

Morgause rolled her eyes, not to be bothered with Cenred's cowardice. She yelled out another spell, this one conjuring the brightest, most potent, and hottest tongue of flame that Arthur had ever laid eyes on, licking the air hungrily as it zipped toward the glowing-eyed servant. Merlin held out a hand, his eyes flashed even brighter, and the fire formed a tight, glowing ball hovering just next to the palm of his outstretched palm. The magical fire now completely in his control, the corner of his swollen lips curved slightly in the ghost of a smirk. Morgause's breath hitched and she breathed, "What—"

She didn't have time to finish her sentence, for the next moment she was frantically calling up a shield to protect her from the spell being sent right back to her. Barely escaping being destroyed by her own curse, she got to her feet, winded, blonde hair flying around her head eerily. "How is it possible?" she breathed.

Merlin said two words then, two words that made no sense whatsoever to Prince Arthur but that had Morgause trembling in awe. Arthur made a note to ask Merlin about them later on, when he wasn't in the middle of a magic battle to the death. "I'm Emrys."

Morgause gaped, face whiter than even Merlin's normal pasty complexion, and she cursed. "It's not true!" she screeched, but Arthur could tell that she didn't believe her own words. She was scared. Arthur felt a wave of triumph rise within him, although he'd really not done anything, that the tables were finally being turned. Yes, it was a foreign sight, Merlin standing with his irises a pure, liquid gold and so much confidence and power exuding from him, but Arthur could tell that events were finally taking a turn. Morgause didn't hold the cards anymore – Merlin had control of the situation, and, despite all he'd learned about the servant in such a short time, Arthur found that he was comfortable with that now. Sure, Merlin was useless with a sword and God forbid he ever be in control of Camelot's army, but this,  _magic_ , was obviously where he excelled, and if it came to fighting a magician, Arthur decided that there's no one he'd rather have defending him.

One more spell, this one stronger but more erratic than the first two, was sent Merlin's way, but yet again the warlock deflected it without so much as a twitch. The amount of power he was commanding, that he apparently held, was staggering, but Arthur couldn't find it in him to actually be afraid of Merlin, or angry, not really. After his declaration to Morgause about not caring whether or not Merlin had magic, Arthur had discovered that he actually  _did_  mean it. Yes, he was hurt that Merlin hadn't told him, but he could also understand why, to an extent. As much as he trusted Merlin – and still did, surprisingly enough – Arthur wouldn't just go and tell him all of Camelot's greatest secrets, strengths, and weaknesses. It wasn't because he didn't trust Merlin with the information, but it wouldn't be fair to Merlin to have to carry such a responsibility. It could put him in more danger, and if someone decided to try and use that information against him, to pit him against Arthur, then that could end badly for both of them. It was the same thing, really, Arthur supposed, though he couldn't pretend it didn't sting that Merlin hadn't trusted him with this. But he  _was_  the son of Uther Pendragon, and if he had been in Merlin's shoes, what would he have done? Probably the same.

When Morgause saw just how strong Merlin's magic was and that there was no way she was going to win this fight, she screamed another spell, this one enveloping her in a great black cloud, like the witch impersonating Lady Helen had done several years ago. King Cenred, seeing that his lady friend was disappearing, rushed forward and yelled, "Morgause! Morgause,  _please_ , take me too!"

Morgause scoffed and ignored his pleas, vanishing with a flash of powerful magic. Cenred looked over at Arthur and Elyan, both of whom were ready for a fight, and at Merlin, who hadn't moved, eyes burning, and gulped. "Well," he said nervously, all previous bravado gone in an instant, "goodbye."

He raced out of the door and as much as Arthur hated to do it after what the pig had done to Merlin, he didn't chase after him. He had more important things to worry about – like Merlin. "Merlin," he said, quickly reaching his friend's side. "Merlin, are you okay?"

Merlin's eyes were slowly turning from gold back to blue. He pitched forward, and Arthur just caught him, wincing at the slick blood that mussed his hands at the touch. While Merlin had been fighting Morgause, he had seemed so strong and invincible that the prince had almost forgotten about his terrible, potentially life-threatening injuries. Now, it seemed, Merlin's magic had receded and the boy was once again in great peril due to the injuries he had sustained being tortured.

Merlin's eyes were opened to slits as Arthur and Elyan gently lowered him to the floor. "'M sorry," he apologized. "Shoulda… told you."

"Yes, well, that's neither here nor there," Arthur mumbled. "We'll talk about it once you're better."

Merlin smiled weakly and passed out.

"Arthur? What happened?" At the familiar, feminine voice, Arthur spun, ashamed at Morgana's presence in the castle slipping his mind during all the commotion with Morgause, Cenred, and Merlin. Then again, he was stretched impossibly thin, emotionally and mentally, so he supposed he shouldn't be too terribly hard on himself. Besides, he reasoned, Morgana didn't look hurt, just confused and a little upset. Why that was, Arthur couldn't fathom. Morgause and Cenred were gone for now, licking their wounds, and everyone was going to be okay. He hoped. He looked down at Merlin – magical, lying-but-for-a-good-reason, all-to-loyal, and the best friend Arthur had ever had. He knew that had to get the servant to Camelot as quickly as possible so that Gaius could care for him. At the terrible conditioned of Merlin's beaten body, Arthur felt anger once again overwhelm him at what had been done to the servant but pushed it back. He needed to be cool and calm for Merlin and Elyan and Morgana now.

Arthur simply shook his head and muttered, "You probably wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"But… where's Morgause? Is she alive?" Funny, Morgana seemed more panicked than relieved that the witch was gone, but Arthur didn't dwell on it.

"Yes," he said, and turned away, not seeing Morgana breathe a sigh of relief at the news that Morgause hadn't been killed. "But she's gone for now. She'll be back, I'm sure, but we'll be ready for her, because we've got loyalty, and, as Merlin has shown, that can get you anywhere."

He left it at that. He was too exhausted to do otherwise at the moment. It was time to go  _home._


	19. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've made it this far, thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought, or simply click the Kudos button to show me you enjoyed it! :)
> 
> Thanks!

To say Gwen was shocked to see her estranged brother as a part of the returning party would be putting it mildly. When Arthur and a rather sullen Morgana rode back into the city with an unconscious but thankfully alive Merlin draped over the front of Arthur's horse and none other than  _Elyan_  traveling alongside them, she had gaped, staring out of Gaius's window, before rushing out to greet them.

"Arthur," she gasped upon reaching the man she loved. She met her brother's eyes, questions broiling in her own brown eyes, and Elyan looked  _far_  too pleased with himself. She rolled her eyes at him, determined to find out what he was doing here later, before curtsying to Morgana – whose lips twitched in what Gwen supposed was an attempted smile – and then turned her attention to Merlin.

"What happened?" she asked, tears in her eyes and voice. Merlin looked terrible – he was bloody and bruised, his sleeping face contorted in pain, and one of his arms was bent at a grotesque angle.

Arthur didn't answer, his mouth set in a tight line. How was he supposed to tell her that Merlin was tortured, beaten and cut and broken because Arthur refused to talk? How could he admit that he had stood there, chained to the wall, silent and unyielding, while his friend was tormented because of his refusal to talk?

So he remained quiet and shook his head. "We need to get him to Gaius," he said, and Gwen immediately ran off to tell Gaius of Merlin's condition so he'd be prepared when Arthur brought him to the physician's chambers. She cast one last confused look at Elyan before darting off, lavender skirts trailing behind her.

* * *

While Arthur went to talk to his father and tell how the 'mission' went and Gwen caught up with her brother, Gaius poked and prodded and cleaned and applied medicine to Merlin's wounds. The old man was trembling when he first saw the severity of Merlin's condition, his anger close to peaking because of the callousness of his captors. Merlin was bone-thin, having not eaten anything since his captivity. His chest was lucky not to be infected and Gaius secretly thought that Merlin's magic might have played a part in that particular miracle.

Gaius washed away the blood that stained his ward's front and cleansed the open knife wounds, wincing at the depth and damage of the shoulder wound where the knife would be twisted. He sewed up the gap as best he could, praying the muscle damage would heal and that Merlin would eventually regain full control of his arm.

When he turned his attention to the broken arm, even the seasoned physician that Gaius was winced and felt slightly queasy at the break. Merlin's arm had literally been snapped just below the elbow, the bone held together by less than an inch of muscle. Gaius used discreet magic to knit the bone back together as best he could. It wasn't perfect, but with time – several months, he decided – it should heal normally. He wrapped the arm and secured it to Merlin's thin chest so he wouldn't hurt it further when he woke up and started moving.

The head injury was a bit trickier, especially since the laceration had healed partially before being opened again. Gaius's anger at Morgause and Cenred swelled anew but he crushed it, not willing to let his emotions get in the way of the treatment of his patient.

Finally Merlin was covered in bandages and salve and patched up the best Gaius could manage, the old man sat back and did the only thing he could – he waited.

* * *

Five days passed and Merlin was slowly beginning to heal. He was still bedridden, bandaged, and weak, but he was on the road to recovery. He'd spent the last few days doing almost nothing but sleeping. Arthur had been concerned at first, worrying for his servant's life, but Gaius had assured the prince that this much sleep was only to be expected if his body was to recover. And so Arthur had taken a leaf out of Gaius's book and waited for the idiot to finally open his eyes so the two of them could have a proper chat.

Finally, the young warlock was aware enough to hold a conversation. He was propped up on several fluffy pillows (that Arthur had most certainly  _not_  taken from his own bed for Merlin's use,  _thank you_  very much) and restless, the fingers on his unbroken arm tapping nervously at the warm blanket (also not courtesy of Arthur,  _of course not_ ). Finally he couldn't stand the silence any longer and he spoke up, right at the same time Arthur decided to start talking.

"Thanks," master and servant said in unison, before breaking off into weak chuckles. Arthur felt decidedly awkward, especially since he had just thanked his  _servant_ , but plowed ahead nonetheless. This was important.

Merlin, for his part, looked rather shocked. Grimacing in pain as he attempted to shift slightly where he was lying, he still managed to ask, "I'm sorry; I didn't quite catch that. Could you repeat it?" He smiled wearily and Arthur rolled his eyes and restrained from throwing something at Merlin. After all, not only was he making it a point  _not_  to further injure his selfless manservant, but he had a strong feeling that Gaius would be likely to do him in if he hurt Merlin right now, prince or not.

So he just made a face and Merlin chuckled before asking, "Seriously.  _Why_  are you thanking me?" He tapped his fingers even more agitatedly and Arthur knew the movement had to be irritating his punctured shoulder but apparently the servant was too nervous to care. "I mean,  _why_  am I even here right now, healing? I'm – well, you found out that I—" He trailed off, opting to stare at the ceiling rather than meet his master's gaze.

Arthur frowned. "Do you  _really_  think I'd leave you to Morgause,  _Mer_ lin? Or turn you in to my father after what you did? You  _saved_ my life, Merlin, and that's not all – you took everything they did to you with bravery and honor, rather than trying to plead for me to talk. You… you saved us all, Merlin, and I am grateful. I couldn't ask for a better friend, magic or not." Even though it felt strange, admitting Merlin was his friend, Arthur felt a little lighter when he saw Merlin's eyes light up at the prince's words. Not that he was planning on repeating them any time soon, however. That had to have been the most awkward sentence he had ever uttered, despite the truth. Good heavens, he wasn't good with emotions and words and the like!

Merlin grinned but then shook his head slowly, answering Arthur's question. "I'm sorry, that wasn't fair. Of course you wouldn't do that; I trust you with my life. After all, you risked your  _life_  to save mine. But… I hate for you to be in that position, between your father and I… and I would've told you sooner but I was afraid of dividing your loyalties." He sighed. "I just—I can't believe that you  _know._  I mean, for so long I—"

"Ah yes," Arthur interrupted, not in the mood for any more of this  _emotional_ talk. "About that."

Merlin's bruised face paled a bit more and he gulped overdramatically. "Uh-oh. Are you about to be a prat again, Arthur?"

"Seeing as you seem to be feeling well enough to  _insult_  your amazingly wonderful master, I think it's about time we had a bit of a  _talk_."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Yep, you're being a prat again."

Arthur smirked. "Why don't you tell me… everything,  _Mer_ lin?"

Merlin made a face. "But it's a  _long_  story."

"Well, lucky for you, I cancelled training with the knights and have the afternoon free, all for you, Merlin. Gaius said that it's about time for you to exercise your voice now you've got it back, so I figured I'd just… speed up the healing process."

Merlin grumbled but began to talk, because Arthur wasn't telling his secret and still trusted him with his life, which was more than Merlin could have ever asked for.

Even though he'd been through hell and back to get to this point, the young warlock was beginning to think that this might all be worth it.

Two hours later, with Merlin's throat sore and Arthur's mind buzzing with a plethora of new information, the bond between prophesied prince and warlock was that much stronger.

Camelot and the future of Albion was most definitely in good hands.

**THE END**


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